


Spirit of Protection

by Ook



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Demons, Erik Is Not Human, Erik is going to get angry soon, Eye injury in chapter 12, Families of Choice, Fluffy sweetness; you'll likely need a toothbrush you know, Gen, Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking, Protective Erik, References to Child Abuse, Sebastian Shaw is a bastard of the first water, Spirits, The Author Regrets Everything, The author regrets what is happening to erik, Torture, but particularly the fact that she can't do one-shots, especially when mucking around with the occult, the importance of knowing what you're doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-12 08:09:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 25,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ook/pseuds/Ook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles is a child who has been locked in an attic by his stepbrother, for a joke. Erik is one of the beings mentioned in the ancient summoning book also locked in the attic.<br/>Shenanigans ensue. 16 extra chapters of them, because my muse <i>would not stop.</i></p><p>I swear to Joss, and by that which is and that which is not, this <i>was going to be a one shot.</i>  And then I was enticed, by people. You know who you are.</p><p>Maybe it is a seventeen chaptered one shot. Yes?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Look, this just crawled out of my brain and onto the page, I had nothing to do with it. Probably a one shot....
> 
>  
> 
>  ~~Probably.~~ Not in any way a one shot, damn.

**You are needed**  
 _Someone was calling._

Lazily, Erik rolled over. He began the slow rise into full consciousness.

**Come, you are needed.**  
 _Someone was calling **him**._

Erik's attention coalesced into alert awareness. 

**_Help. Me._**

The call came again, and this time Erik was ready. He seized the summons tightly, tracing it back to the plane and place and time it originated from.

Earth. America. _Now_

Erik gathered himself up, and _moved_. 

Erik dropped like a burning stone into the physical realms, flying like an arrow to his caller. Erik's spirit condensed into shielding matter in a bare flash of seconds. Flesh, bones and blood clothed his true energy in his familiar Earthly form. 

In the musty dimness, Erik opened his new, old eyes, grey blue like the wings of the storms he rode, and saw. The atmosphere in the bare, crowded room- an attic?- was close and stiflingly hot. Dust particles hung in the air, floating between the bars of sunlight and shadow by the small, dirty window. A smaller form made a strangled noise, backing away. Erik smiled. 

“You called me here. I have come.”

He spoke gently, and glanced at the markings on the floor by his feet. Curious. He stepped over the lines and symbols of what might have been intended to be a binding circle. Erik knelt, and ran a questioning finger across the patterns. It was well drawn. It might even have worked, to bind one of the demon kind. If it had been drawn in the ritual blood and earth and seawater, and not, as this one had been, in chalk.

“Well?” Erik said. He put a hint of threat into it this time.

“I'm terribly sorry.” A young voice said. “I- I don't think I thought it was going to work.” Erik rose, and took three swift steps into the room.  
“Stand in the light.” Erik said. “I would see who thought to summon me. It has been a long time since a mortal woke me.” The child who stepped forwards could not have been more than ten years of age. Erik's eyes widened, fractionally. The boy was pale, brown haired, and bruised. There was a teasing familarity to his features Erik couldn't quite place. He limped forwards awkwardly, keeping his eyes lowered to boot level. His feet were bare.

“You're a little young for demon-raising.” Erik said, mildly. The boy raised dazzlingly blue eyes to his, sharply.  
“You're a demon?” he said, startled. “You don't look- that is, the book only said spirits.”  
“I look as I choose.” Said Erik, still gently. “And which book might that be?” He didn't touch the part of the boy's statement that mentioned demons. Erik was a truthful spirit, on the whole, but he did not intend to answer a question that hadn't been asked; not so early in the conversation.

 

“Oh. Here.” the boy held out the book at arms length, but did not let go if it or come too close. Erik was pleased to note some rudimentary self protection in the child. He looked at the book. Erik recognised it. The author had been mad, and unable to tell the difference between spirits that did harm and spirits that protected, but he could write accurately and interestingly. Unfortunately.  
“I know that work.” he said, squatting. The boy didn't move. “Where did you find it?”  
“Here.” The boy shrugged. “Cain locked me in, yesterday, for a joke- I was getting bored. So I readi it.” 

_You were also getting frightened_ Erik thought, shrewdly. The solid door to the attic had fresh scrapes and marks as if someone had tried to kick or hit it. And some of the smudging on the boy's face was from tear stains, not bruising or dirt.  
“Cain?” Erik tilted his head, querying. The boy came a step closer.  
“My stepbrother.” he said, ruefully. “He's a bit- he not very- well, he's off to spend the week with friends later today- I thought he might forget I was here.”  
“So you summoned me to break down the door for you.” Erik said, inflectionless. The boy flushed, and shifted.

“No!... well, I suppose I was worried about Raven.”  
“You summoned me for pet care?”  
“She's my sister!” the boy snapped, and Erik smiled again.  
“And what.” Erik said, “Worries you about your sister?”  
“I- I want her to be safe and mother was talking about sending me away- to school.” the boy muttered. Every one of his instincts shrilled in Erik's blood, trumpeting wildly.

 _Protection!_ Oh, at last, at _last_ , he had been called for the tasks he was born for! 

Erik drew in a calming breath. Patience. The boy might have a specific deed in mind.  
“Safe?” he said, dryly.  
“From Cain. And Kurt.” the boy said, bluntly.  
“Your stepbrother.” Erik said. “And?”  
“His father.” Erik raised an eyebrow.  
“Is locking people in attics such a terrible thing, then? As well as a trait shared by father and-”  
“No. I'm older, I can look after myself.” A shadowed look came over the boy's face then. “I- look, I don't expect you to believe me. But sometimes- sometimes I can hear people's thoughts.” 

He paused, clearly searching Erik's face for scorn or disbelief. Erik kept his face still and waited.  
“And Cain- he likes, likes hurting people. I can hear him. Thinking about it.” The boy's voice shook. “And Kurt won't stop him and they hate both of us because we're going to inherit most of my father's money and- and-” he stopped, and rubbed a hand over his face, sky-blue eyes glistening. “And I've been in here for two days, almost, and I suppose I got a bit silly, and I didn't expect this to _work_ but-”  
“Enough.” Erik said. “I believe you.”  
“You- you do?”

“If you had read a little further in that book than chapter two.” Erik said. “You would have come across an account of the great families, who sent their sons and their daughters to lie with spirits, in exchange for power, or favours.” Erik broke off, thinking of bright eyes,and a wicked smile. _Magda_. “The children born from those unions often had... gifts, which were passed down to their children.” The boy would _also_ have read just how dangerous it was for a child of such a line to attempt to summon demons, as well. Erik swiftly decided not to mention that. The boy was already scared, and tired. 

And hopefully, with Erik to... teach him, he would learn why summoning spirits of any description was not a safe or wise course of action. For anyone.  
“Oh.” The boy said. “So my family-”  
“Is likely descended from one of those lines, yes.” Erik said. Crouching on the floor was getting uncomfortable. He sat, and stretched his long legs out in front of him.  
“So.” The boy said. “Can you help me?”  
“With protecting your sister? How do you propose I do that?” Erik said, and smiled widely enough to display the inhuman number and sharpness of his teeth. 

The boy blanched, but remained steadfast.  
“I- I want her to be safe, and happy, and healthy.” he said. “That's all.”  
“Nothing for yourself?” Erik said, curious.  
“Look.” the boy said, steadily. “If I have a soul, or, a life or something, that you're going to want, in exchange, then I won't-” His voice began to waver. “I'll be dead, or I won't be me, right?” Erik inclined his head, impassively. “So, what I want- I want for me, me as I am now, for Raven to be all right. For Kurt not to hit her. For Cain to stop wanting to-” He broke off. Erik could see the boy was close to tears. He had no desire to push the child to breaking point.

“To whom shall I make my vow?” He said. The child looked blank. “What is your name?” Erik prompted.  
“I'm- look, what do you want in exchange for this?”  
“You pick a poor time to become wary, boy.” Erik said, and stood. He moved, too fast for human eye to follow, and took the child by his scrawny shoulders. “It's a little late for that. Don't you think?”  
“I- “ The boy faltered. Erik squinted down at him. He was swaying, slightly. Erik diagnosed hunger, or thirst, combined with that damaged ankle he had seen earlier. 

Enough. He was a spirit of protection; no mere hungry ghost to feed on a child's fears, or demon, to consume souls and bodies. _Enough._  
“Very well.” Erik said, gently. “It will all be very well. I will swear it so.”  
“Thank you.” The boy said, visibly pulling himself together. His hand gripped each other, white-knuckled.  
“But you need not fear me." Erik said, softly, sincerely. I don't want your soul, or your flesh, or your life. I want your name.” The boy stared at him, stubbornly. Erik sighed.  
“Well?” Eventually, the boy slumped in Erik's hands.

“Charles.” he sad, quietly. “I'm Charles Xavier.” 

“Well, Charles Xavier.” Erik said. “You may call me Erik.” He smiled, this time without an edge to it, and the boy smiled back. Erik shifted his stance, and then lifted the boy to his hip, as a mother with a younger child might. The boy squawked, startled, but he did not struggle. Erik frowned to himself. This boy, this Charles was too light for his age. Not that it would have mattered, not to Erik, who possessed strength beyond the mortal. The child raised wondering eyes.  
“What?” Erik said. “I may as well carry you downstairs; it's quicker.”  
“The door's locked.” Charles Xavier said.  
“Not to me.” Erik said, and gestured, with the hand not curled around Charles' skinny waist. “Let's get you fed, first. Shall we?

Obedient to Erik's will, the door creaked open.

Charles Xavier laughed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik investigates the kitchen, while feeding and watering his latest charge, before putting said Charles to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, yeah. There's more on the way, so another WIP from me, I KNOW.
> 
> Sorry about that.

“So.” Charles said, thoughtfully, as he sat at the kitchen table. “Just to be clear, you’re really not a demon?”  
“Really.” Erik agreed, gravely, and poured him a glassful of water. “You called for help; I am a protection.” _For Raven_ Charles thought, relieved. He took the water gratefully, and began drinking.  
“It’s just- I can’t hear your thoughts.” He mumbled.   
“No?” Erik said. “As well you should not, I think. My thoughts are not like yours.” Charles flinched. “By which.” Erik said, patiently. “I mean that I was born of a blade, not a womb. And I am some several millennia older than these United States of America. My thoughts might hurt you.”

“Oh.” Charles said, surprised. “You- you don’t look-“  
“Not to your eyes, perhaps.” The tall, lean man gave him a swift smile as he said it, before turning his attention back to the microwave. “But tell me, how does this box heat the food?” he said, watching the soup revolve. “All it does is spin round and round.”   
“I- um, some kind of radiation? Makes the water in the soup excited and hot.” Charles bit his lip. He ought to be able to explain properly. He was nearly ten, for heaven’s sake, and-  
“Drink your water.” His visitor interrupted Charles’s frantic thoughts, seemingly unaware of them.  
“What?” Charles was confused.

“Your stepbrother trapped you yesterday, yes?” Erik’s steel coloured eyes flashed. Charles nodded, half fearful, half amazed at the d- _spirit’s_ apparent anger on his behalf. Erik topped up Charles’s glass of water.  
“Well, then. That room was hot, and close. You had no water. So you will need more now. Drink.” The microwave beeped. Erik studied it with narrowed eyes. Charles was desperately afraid he was going be rude and laugh. He hurried into talking, instead.  
“I- he hasn’t shut me in there before- we aren’t supposed to go up to the attics- or I’d have left some water in there, and things.” 

“Cain locking you in a room is a regular occurrence.” Erik said, flatly. Erik froze for a long moment, gripping the bowl tightly, and Charles tensed. However, Erik resumed setting the soup before him, and Charles breathed again.  
“He doesn’t do it to Raven.” Charles hastened to assure him. “Only- I used to be afraid, and he thinks it’s funny.” He tasted the soup. Somehow it was better than when he heated it up himself.  
“And now you’re not afraid?” Charles shrugged. This time Erik’s smile showed more of his inhuman teeth. Charles gulped more soup.

“I don’t let him know how I feel.” He said, eventually, almost casually. Erik nodded.  
The soup was good. So was the water. Charles sipped his way through both, after Erik had warned him about over eating leading to nausea. Discreetly, Charles watched the man- being?- his playing about with chalk and old books seemed to have called up to protect Raven. The intricacies of a modern kitchen were apparently fascinating to protective spirits. Or this one, anyway. Charles watched him interrogate drawers and wondered. What made Erik a spirit? He looked like a normal man; if a very tall one. With reddish hair.

He was wearing almost normal clothes, too Charles decided, glancing at the spirit out of the corner of his eye. Erik was frowning at a turkey baster, in some distaste. The spirit was in shirtsleeves- a long, flowy white shirt, and no tie, but shirt sleeves nevertheless. The turkey baster was laid aside in favour of the knife drawer. And his trousers were either a very dark blue or black. They weren’t jeans; but Charles couldn’t be sure what cloth they were made of. His boots were strong, heavy things, too. Charles had stared at them, when they’d first materialised in front of his face, long moments before he’d been able to force himself to look higher up.

It was still surprising, how kind his eyes had been.  
Erik had felt exactly like a human; if a very strong one, when he had lifted Charles into his arms, and carried him downstairs. Well. Not that Charles really had all that many memories of being held, or carried, or touched, but Erik had breathed like a human, and his muscles had moved under his human-seeming skin like other peoples’ did. It had been odd, but rather nice. Comforting. And of course, it had been good for his hurt ankle; which was doubtless why Erik had done it. Charles bit down on a faintly wistful feeling. 

Erik was going to protect Raven; he’d said so. And that would _probably_ mean stopping Cain or Kurt from hurting either of them. Charles hoped so, anyway. Not that Charles couldn’t look after himself, especially if someone as strong and… reliable as Erik was protecting Raven, anyway. But. Sometimes looking after himself was… lonely. And tiring. Charles stared at the bottom of his soup bowl fiercely. 

He was the big brother. Mum had said that, angrily, when she’d found him playing monsters with Raven, that he was too old now for silly things, like getting into trouble, or making a mess and she was right. Kurt had been so angry. Even if the last silly thing he’d done had turned out to have such marvellous consequences.  
“Are you... do you eat?” Charles said, diffidently. Erik laid aside an egg timer and walked back to the table.  
“I do.” He said, simply, and gazed at Charles. Charles flushed, slightly.

“You didn’t have any soup.” He pointed out. “There’s other food, if you don’t like-“  
“I don’t need as much as mortals.” The man said, with some amusement. “You don’t need to worry about me, Charles.” Charles nodded. “I have said, all shall be well, and it will be so.” Charles’ eyes were stinging. Hastily, he blinked. Erik’s gaze sharpened.  
“You are tired, and hurt.” He said, quietly. “You need rest.”  
“But-“  
“Also.” Erik said, with a grim smile. “I wish to speak to your step-father.” Charles gulped. “Best you stay out of-“  
“The way?” Charles tried not to feel hurt.  
“I was going to say, our cross fire.” Erik said, gently. Charles flushed.

“Sorry.” Erik reached across to tousle his hair.  
“No need. But what I have to say- indeed, how I intend to, ah, _communicate_ with Kurt is really not for the eyes or ears of children.” Charles’s stomach lurched, at the sight of Erik’s inhuman grin as it widened to display far more teeth.  
“Um.” Charles said. “I didn’t- I don’t-“  
“He will listen to me.” Erik said, flatly. “It depends on Kurt, whether he listens with his ears or with his skin.” Erik said, probably intending to be comforting. “But I will not be especially violent with him unless he becomes a direct threat to either of you.”  
“Argh.” Charles said.

Erik’s huge hands slid under Charles’s armpits, and he lifted the boy back onto his hip. Charles thought briefly about protesting, but it didn’t quite seem necessary. His eyes were pretty heavy. And his ankle still hurt. Effortlessly, Erik strode out of the kitchen and up the stairs. He was humming. Charles let himself lean his head on Erik’s shoulder. It was warm.  
“Which is your room?” Erik said, gently. Charles pointed. He really was getting sleepy. Funny, it was still early.

Erik flipped the covers back on Charles’s bed, unearthing his pyjamas.   
“You wear these to sleep in.” It wasn’t a question. Charles yanked his shirt over his head, instead of answering. Deftly, Erik undid his shoe laces, and slipped off Charles’s shoes and socks. He cupped the sprained ankle in one large, warm hand.  
“When did this happen?”   
“Yesterday. When-“  
“Cain locked you in.” Erik said. He traced a curious pattern over Charles’s ankle once, twice, three times. Charles’s foot tingled, sharply, and then- stopped hurting. _Completely._  
“What-“ Charles stared. 

“A minor healing, but a necessary one.” Erik said. “Unnecessary pain I will also protect you from.” He said, offhandedly, as Charles gaped at him. “If I can.” He added. Charles blinked wet eyes, and pulled on his pyjama bottoms. He wriggled into the bed, and Erik laid the covers over him softly.  
“Raven will be back soon.” Charles fretted. “I- when you meet her, she’s-“  
“Later. Sleep now, Charles.” Erik said. Obediently, Charles closed his eyes. 

Against his will, Charles’ hand slid out from the covers, and closed around Erik’s wrist. He couldn’t- he wanted Erik to stay with him, but of course that was silly, Erik was going to talk to Kurt soon and- There was a scraping noise, and Charles’s desk chair walked across the room. Erik sat in it, patiently.  
“I’m here, now. You can rest.” Erik said, making no attempt to free himself. “I won’t move from here until you’re asleep.” He added, as Charles’ grip tightened. 

Erik glared at the curtains, and they closed, obediently dropping the room into soft darkness.  
“I- I don’t want you to go.” Charles whispered. He could say it, now, eyes closed, and tucked into bed.  
“I’ll be here as long as you need me.” Erik said, and there was a steely promise in his quiet tones. “Only when you need me not to be here, will I go.” Erik’s free hand traced a flowing design across Charles’s forehead. 

Charles slept.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik has a little chat with Kurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
> Erik's thoughts on child abuse, oblique references to different kinds of child abuse, and Kurt's defence of his behaviour.
> 
> Erik's graphic discription of his favourite method of punishing people who harm others.
> 
> I swear to Joss, this was supposed to be a one shot.

Charles was asleep. Erik waited a short while, wary of leaving Charles’ side only for him to wake alone, and fear abandonment; but the boy- worn by his long hours of imprisonment, hunger and thirst- did not stir. Slowly, as his sleep grew deeper, the child’s grip on his protector grew lax. Gently, Erik tucked the hand that had been holding so tightly his wrist under the covers. He rose, silently, and began to slip, unseen, downstairs. There were two names in his mind, and he was resolved to deal with their owners as soon as was possible.

Erik ran his tongue along his teeth thoughtfully as he descended the final flight of stairs. Kurt Marko was neglectful and violent to the two Xavier siblings. He also indulged his son when Cain performed similar behaviour. Charles had spoken of injuries, and Erik had been able to see the traces they had left on him, even after the physical damage had healed. He was prepared to believe that Raven, the seven year old, might well show similar marks to her soul. This could _not_ be permitted to continue.

Erik resolved he would speak to both Markos separately. This abuse and neglect was not only causing preventable pain and suffering to the children, but the indulgence harmed Cain, the fifteen year old thug in training also. His father, in allowing the bullying and assault of his smaller stepsiblings, was teaching him that abuse of the weak was a rewardable activity. This could not be permitted to continue. Especially as it seemed that the nature of his interest in his stepsister was shifting from mere violence to something more damaging still. 

Erik ghosted up to the door of Marko’s study, and listened. The man was talking; to a device that matched Charles’s description of a telephone; a machine that carried voices between speakers. He resolved to find out more about it later. Cain was not yet a man, and so Erik thought, he would be unlikely to feel compelled to kill him. He preferred to help the young learn and improve rather than end them before they could grow.

Kurt, now… Kurt was a full grown adult. This might just be Kurt Marko’s last night alive.

Quietly, invisibly, Erik moved into the room, and looked at his chosen target as he babbled into the handset of the phone. Kurt was a vigorous, physically powerful man. He was growing just a little flabby around the middle and heavier in the face as his middle years crept up on him. His eyes were small, and his features coarse. Erik viewed his soul and saw a pinched, narrow thing, poorly nourished and too often ignored in favour of the immediate satisfaction of Kurt’s more animal appetites.  
“Yeah, bye.” Kurt said, and put the phone down. “Asshole.” He added a minute later.

“Kurt Marko.” Erik said, from behind him. “I have some things to say to you.”  
“Who the hell are you?!” Kurt nearly fell out of his office chair. Erik assisted him back into it, roughly.   
“I do not originate from there.” Erik said, hand crushing down on Kurt’s shoulder to keep him in the chair. Kurt scrabbled for a drawer of the desk; Erik scowled at it and it stayed shut. The chair had little wheels on it; Erik shoved it forwards until the edge of the desk bit into Kurt’s broadening gut.

“Look.” Kurt said, breathing fast. “I don’t keep much money in the house, but-“  
“I do not need your money.” Erik said, softly. “I have some things to say to you.”  
“What- who _are_ you?” Kurt gasped, struggling against Erik’s implacable grip.  
“Your son locked his stepbrother in the attic yesterday.” Erik said, thoughtfully. “He was still there today; so he called me.”  
“Aw, crap, a do-gooder.” Kurt muttered. “Look, mister.” He beamed, slightly desperately. “Boys will be boys, you know that, right? They were probably just playing about, I’ll talk-“

“No.” Erik said, deathly calm. “This is not a game. They were not just playing about, as you put it. Charles Xavier sustained injuries during his struggle; he further tells me that this is not the first time this has happened.”  
“Well, I’m sure Charlie’ll be fine.” Kurt said. “I’ll speak to Cain. But… you don’t want to put toom much stress on what Charlie says.” He smiled, uneasily. “Just between you and me, the boy’s a bit of whiner.”  
“A whiner.” Erik said, flatly.

“He’s a bit soft; too fond of books.” Kurt said. He drummed his fingers on the desk. Erik said nothing, letting the man sweat. “I’ve done what I can for him, of course- tried to knock it out of him, toughen him up-“ Kurt blustered.  
“Ah, is that was the broken arm and the various times you belt or punch him are supposed to do?” Erik said, politely. “I am not familiar with this aspect of human child-raising; I shall make a note.”

“Human child raising?” Kurt said. “Just _what_ are you-?”  
“Look for yourself.” Erik said, and spun the chair around so Kurt could actually see him. At the same time, he traced a sigil of basic true sight on the man’s skull. Kurt stared up at Erik, frozen in wordless terror. He probably could not perceive much, even with the pattern enhancing his vision, but he could see enough to recognise a genuine threat. Erik smiled at him, and Kurt went paler.

Erik bent over the man he was pinning to the chair, and placed a gentle hand on the back of his neck. He traced the vertebrae of Kurt’s neck with one thumb. Kurt shook with the need to struggle, but remained motionless, transfixed to Erik’s will  
“You know what could happen if I break your neck.” Erik said, conversationally. “You’d be dead. Swiftly and painlessly.” Erik tilted his head, thoughtfully.  
“Please…” Kurt whispered, eyes beginning to brim over.  
“But, I wonder, is that what you deserve? I begin to think you deserve… more.” Kurt closed his eyes, and tears ran down his cheeks.

 _“Look at me.”_ Erik said, sharply. Kurt opened his eyes. “However. If I am very careful, when I snap your spine.” Erik said, gently. “It will not kill you.” He smiled again.  
“Wha-“  
“You’ll lose the power of speech, of mobility- but you will still be able to think and feel, Kurt Marko.” Erik leaned in closer, whispering in the man’s ear. “Trapped by your own body.” Kurt whimpered. “Helpless.”

“I don’t understand!” Kurt said, desperately. “They’re just kids, we all get hit as kids, he’s not-“  
“No? Then understand _this_.” Erik hissed. “If by your action or inaction, the Xavier children come to harm, be it even so little as a scraped knee or a single bruise, I will snap your spine. _Carefully._ You won’t die from it.” He continued, remorselessly. “But every single moment you remain alive, entombed in your own body, I will make you _pray_ for the ability to _scream._ ” He smiled his inhuman smile, letting Kurt see all his teeth.

“Do you understand me, Kurt Marko?” Kurt nodded, eyes wide and body trembling. “Aloud, please.” Erik prompted.  
“Yes. I understand.” Kurt said, hoarsely, eyes glinting with a mixture of fear and hatred. Erik stared at him for a long moment, and then nodded. He pushed the chair, and released his will, allowing Kurt to move again. Erik turned to the door. He did not want to leave Charles alone too long. Kurt dived from his desk drawer, and pulled out a small pistol. He pointed it at Erik.  
“Don’t move.” He said, feverishly. Erik began to grin to himself. 

“I’ll shoot!” Kurt said, frantic. Erik kept walking. Kurt fired the gun. Erik staggered, slightly, on impact. He was surprised. Mortal guns had grown much more powerful since he had been here last. But no simple bullet was likely ever to harm him. He spun, sharply, and moved, seizing Kurt’s gun hand before the mortal could get off another shot.  
“I repeat.” Erik said, patient as a filled and sealed grave. “Harm the children, and I Snap. Your. Spine.” There was a slight liquidly spattering noise, and Kurt’s trousers darkened rapidly. Erik wrinkled his nose as the smell rose. 

Kurt began to babble. Erik sighed, and twisted the gun out of Kurt’s hand. A yelp and some crunching indicated he might have damaged Kurt’s hand while doing so. Erik could not find it in himself to care overmuch. He reached up behind his left shoulder blade and extracted the distorted bullet. He dropped it on the desk; and Kurt flinched away from it, and Erik, cowering.

Quietly, Erik shut the office door behind the broken man. He paused for a moment, waiting for his material body to erase the alteration the bullet and its extraction had caused. Then, humming again, he headed for the stairs. He had to go to Charles. He had left him sleeping deeply, but the gun had been loud. If the noise from the gunshot woke him; the boy might be frightened for his guardian, and it was time that he knew that was not a necessary concern of his.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik meets Sharon, while he is not being on the stairs. Or should that be being not?  
> He then returns to Charles' room to find Charles has been joined by his sister.

Erik ghosted his way up the stairs. He took care to be- not invisible, quite, but profoundly unnoticeable. He would wait and see how Kurt dealt with Cain before seeing if the man’s spine needed snapping. Cain was young, and, from Charles’ accounts, stupid, also. The kind of youth who might listen to his father, but not to anyone else. Should Kurt convey Erik’s message firmly enough, Cain would be less likely to test it. If Erik warned Cain himself, Cain was almost bound to push- and Erik preferred to avoid mutilation and torture of adolescents, if it were possible to do so.

“Who’s-“ A drunken voice slurred. Erik looked up, startled, to see an inebriated female swaying on the landing, above him. Ah. Sharon, the mother of his wards. Erik had resolved to tackle her neglect later, when he had a clearer picture. He reminded himself she would not see him.  
“Yes, you’re not there, I know you’re not there, _stop saying it_!” she hissed, clutching at her head. Erik blinked. She could _sense_ him. A rare talent, among mortals- but hardly surprising, given someone had to be passing those traits down their bloodline, for Charles to be able to do what he did.

“Go to sleep. All will be well.“ Erik said, out loud, and waited to see if she would challenge him. The woman only moaned, and began to stagger away, down the hall. She leaned her left hand on the wall for balance. Erik watched her go, quietly.  
“Not here... I know, none of you ever are, just making it up…” She took an indelicate gulp from the bottle of amber fluid clutched in her right hand. He could have removed it from her hand, demanded she sober up and care for her children, but Erik left her to it. Time enough to deal with her later. Hopefully when she was a little more sober of her own choice. He was reasonably certain this happened occasionally.

He slipped through the door into Charles’s bedroom. The rising moon peacefully painted the walls and everything within with a soft light that drained the colours into soothing blue and grey shades. The boy was still asleep, but he’d been joined by another, smaller figure, who was curled around him like ivy, on top of his covers. Erik smiled. This had to be Raven, Charles’s little sister. She was also asleep. Erik regarded the brother and sister for a while, thinking. He was a spirit of protection; and he had accepted these two children as his wards. What were the best possible paths they could take to get to a healthy, happy adulthood and independence?

The moon moved on through the sky, changing the shadows. Erik rose, and, after a small amount of investigation, located a blanket. He laid it over Raven, settling it down around her bony little shoulders as softly as a puff of goose down. He sat back down in the chair he’d left by the bed, and thought some more. Raven was blue. This was not, to Erik’s knowledge, a common skin tone among humans, although as far as Erik’s senses could detect, the child was human. It explained perhaps a little of Charles’ stubborn and desperate need to protect her- which spoke to the boy’s will and his capacity for emotional bonds.

Raven stirred, mumbling, but did not wake. Charles’ forehead creased, and he began to move, slightly, in his sleep, and whimper. _Bad dreams._ Erik reasoned; not entirely unusual, but definitely, something Erik was equipped to deal with. He laid a gentle hand on Charles’s head. With his thumb he traced one of the minor warding patterns onto Charles’ forehead. The frown on the boy’s face smoothed away, and he stopped muttering. Pleased, Erik sat back, easing his hand away gently. Erik looked up and realised the girl’s eyes were open. She was looking back at him. 

 

“Hello.” Erik said, calmly. “You must be Raven.” Raven wriggled sharply, and, suddenly, she was no longer blue skinned and red haired, but pale and blonde. _A shifter!_ it was a beautiful talent, Erik thought. Hastily, he opened his mouth.  
“Who’re you? Why are you here?” Raven hissed, beating him to speech.  
“You can call me Erik.” Erik said, softly, hoping not to disturb the sleeping Charles.

“That’s not who you are.” She said, with disturbing insight. He nodded. Raven frowned. Her bottom lip began to tremble.  
“You can’t have Charles.” She burst out. “Or me; people will miss us and-“ Charles stirred, uneasily. Erik eyed the boy warily. Charles needed sleep.  
“I will not harm you, Raven.” Erik said, clamping down on his feelings. “I am for protection; Charles called to me for help.”  
“When? How?” Raven looked sceptical.  
“He was locked in the attic. He used a book.” Erik said, placidly. “You can ask him when he awakes.” 

She frowned.  
“You’re not human.” Raven said, eventually. Erik nodded, silently. “Are you a freak like me?”  
“You are not a freak, Raven.” Erik said firmly, repressing the rage in his heart that a child so young should describe themselves so.  
“Are you one of K-kurt’s friends?” she said, suspiciously. Erik frowned, and shook his head.   
“I’ve met the man. You may safely say that I have no affection for that dangerous fool.” He said, shortly.   
“Ok.” Raven said, hopefully. “Why are you being all creepy and watching us?”

“As I said.” Erik said, quietly. “I am for protection. Your protection, you and your brother.”  
“Hur-What?” Charles said, blinking dazed eyes open. Erik flicked his fingers, and a small ball of light appeared, hovering over his hand. Raven stared at it, wide eyed. Charles yawned.  
“Charles!” Raven hissed, quietly, but not so quietly Erik couldn’t follow her words easily. “Why did you let a creepy stranger-“  
“Erik!” Charles started struggling to sit up. Raven rolled off him grumpily. “You stayed!” 

Charles’ smile was wide and wonderful.  
“While you need me, I will not leave.” Erik said, peaceably.  
“He’s not human.” Raven said, uneasily.   
“He’s a spirit, not a demon.” Charles said, firmly. “He _said._ Erik smiled at them.   
“I am not a demon.” He agreed. “But while I am, you shall not be harmed. Either of you.”  
“While you am what?” Raven said, not very grammatically correctly.

“Raven, please.” Charles said, “Don’t- we don’t want-“  
“Your sister is simply displaying that she has a good head on her shoulders.” Erik said, calmly, as Charles frowned. “While I live, and while you need me.” He said to Raven.  
“Why?”  
“It is,” Erik said. “What I am.” He flicked his wrist, and the ball of light flowed up to the ceiling, and stayed there, pouring light over the room.   
“Protection.” Charles breathed, eyes burning. Erik nodded.  
“I have spoken to Kurt Marko; if he understood me correctly, neither he nor his son should trouble either of you further. If they do… I will trouble _them._ ” Erik said, darkly.

“Wow.” Raven said, happily. “Wait, does this mean I can maybe go to school sometime?”  
“What?” Erik said, confused. “Is school so dangerous a place?”  
“I- “ Raven faltered, hanging her head.  
“She’s blue.” Charles said, sadly. “People don’t like-“  
“I know Raven is blue, Charles,” Erik said, calmly. “Why does that keep her from school?” He had a shrewd idea he knew, but it would help them both if they could put words to it.   
“You _showed_ him?” Charles snapped. “You don’t know who he was, Erik could have been-“

 

“I was _asleep_!” Raven hissed back, and things began to dissolve into a sibling squabble that might have been humorous, if not for the fear in both children’s faces and voices.   
“Stop it.” Erik said, as they began poking at each other more roughly. “Charles, I was not in your room when Raven fell asleep.”  
“Oh.” Charles said, thoughtfully. “I- you fixed my ankle, with Raven- Can you?” Raven scowled, ferociously, hunching in on herself in misery. Erik sighed. Charles had obviously been trying to protect his small sister against desperate odds, but really, the boy needed to learn. 

Well. Erik was a good teacher, of various things.  
“I cannot “fix” as you call it, Raven’s being blue.” Erik said, seriously.   
Why?” Charles said, almost angrily.  
“Because there is nothing wrong with it.” Erik said, curtly. He looked at the tiny scowling girl, and his voice softened. “You are beautiful, Raven. Just as you are. Believe me.” Raven stopped scowling, but stayed hunched up, staring at her knees.

“I know she’s pretty, but Kurt said- Mum always wants her to hide, but school’s too- she gets tired.“ Charles said, unhappily. “I’m supposed to keep her safe!” Erik nodded to himself.  
“In order: Nothing Kurt says should be taken seriously, I believe your mother has some fears she needs to address herself to, and you are not yet ten years old, Charles Xavier.”  
“So?” Charles said; eyes bright. Raven wrapped an arm around him. He returned the hug. “There isn’t anyone else.” Charles whispered. “Not for us, not since-“  
“There is now.” Erik said. “I am here.” They both gaped at him. 

Erik rose from his chair and dropped to one knee by the bed. “I swear to you both; by that which is and by that which is not, you are both in my care and keeping. None shall harm you there. I shall not betray or fail you, though I am obliterated for it.” Both of them stared at him, eyes wide. Erik tilted his head. Impulsively, Raven scrambled over Charles and hugged Erik. Since he was on his knees, they were about the same height. Erik stretched out an arm, and drew Charles out from under his covers and into the hug.  
”I promise.” He added, more softly. 

No one said anything else for some time.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast. Cain. Aaaand...
> 
> "What is the internet?" Erik said. Charles did his best to explain. "Show me."

When the children opened their eyes in the morning, Erik was still there, sitting in the chair, waiting and watching patiently. He smiled at them both. Raven was fascinated by the sharpness and number of his teeth. Charles grinned at her, and a warm, wordless glee filled them both. Erik seemed to feel it too. Raven jumped out of the bed and laughed.  
“I love the summer holidays.” Charles said happily. Raven made a face at him; he stuck his tongue out in reply. “You don’t have to get dressed straight away.” He explained.

“Come on, let’s grab some food before Kurt or Cain wakes up and spoils it all.” Raven said. Erik frowned a little.  
“Wash your faces.” he said, thoughtfully. “Don’t worry about the Markos. I will prepare food.”  
“Uh- thanks.” Charles said, stumbling at the strangeness of breakfast being prepared _for_ him. No one had done that since the last nanny had left. Kurt had said it was a waste of money; Charles could feed Raven if Sharon- if Mum was too ill.

Raven was already heading to the bathroom. Charles darted to join her, and snatched up his toothbrush.  
 _What do you think of him, Raven?_ he said, mouth full of toothpaste. She pulled out her toothbrush to consider.  
“He's funny.” she said, eventually. “He just wants to look after us?” Charles nodded. “What does his mind feel like?”  
 _I can't read his thoughts._ Charles said, and spat into the basin. “But he's not lying; I think I'd feel that.” he added hastily.

“How did he get here, anyway?” Raven grabbed the soap, and flicked her hands through the water, splashing Charles' pyjamas.  
“Hey!” Charles said, and started washing his hands and face. “I- You weren't here. Cain locked me in. Day before yesterday.”  
“Mom wanted to go up to the big house.” Raven said. “Sorry.”  
“Doesn't matter. It worked out alright.” Charles shrugged. “Anyway, yesterday, I started reading the books.”  
“The weird ones?” Charles nodded.  
“There was a ritual, to call up help.” Charles said, and shrugged.

“And you just did it?” Raven said as they clattered out of the bathroom and headed for the kitchen. Charles blushed.  
“It was silly. But I just thought, if it worked, where's the harm, and if it didn't-”  
“If it had not worked.” Erik said, crisply, “You might well have summoned up a being far more monstrous and terrible than I.” They both looked at him.  
“Oh” said Charles. “That would have been bad.”  
“For you and your environs, yes.” Erik said, and put two more bowls on the table.

“You talk funny.” Raven said, before Charles could hush her.  
“Eat your breakfast, child.” Erik said. He didn't quite smile. They ate. Erik had cut fruit for them, and poured out yoghurt, but he hadn't toasted the bread he'd sliced. Charles went and got the jam and butter out of the pantry.  
“Aren't you eating?” Raven said. Charles expected Erik to refuse, as he had done the soup the day before, but Erik selected some of the cut fruit and seemed to be enjoying it as they ate. 

A peaceful silence filled the kitchen, broken only by chewing. Erik stared critically at a cereal packet. Raven hid her grin in the bread and butter slice. Charles smiled a little, openly. Neither of them could quite explain how one long, lean man, lounging in the corner chair, could make the kitchen- the whole house- feel such a different place.  
 _Maybe it’s because he makes it safe_ Charles said. Erik raised an eyebrow.  
 _Maybe he heard you!_ Rave giggled. Charles went pink.

The kitchen door banged open, and Cain Marko swaggered in, wearing grimy jeans and a faded band shirt. He was nearly sixteen, and tall with it. Charles ducked his head, staring at his bowl, and Raven dropped her bread back on the plate. Erik rotated the cereal packet and stared at the writing on the back.  
“Hey brats.” Cain said, cheerfully. Neither answered him. Erik put the cereal box back on the table. The movement caught Cain’s eye.

“Who’re you?” he demanded, bustling up to Erik aggressively. “What’re you doing here?”  
“You can call me Erik.” Erik said. Cain’s hands bunched into fists.  
“Not what I asked.” He snarled. Internally, Erik sighed. The puppy was clearly feeling his growth, and it appeared he hadn’t spoken to his father yet.  
“I have spoken with Kurt Marko. I am here for Raven, and for Charles.” Erik said, patiently. “He can advise you-“  
“What is this, masterpiece theatre?” Cain said. Erik looked up at him and smiled, somewhat deliberately. 

Cain appeared to trip over his tongue somewhat after meeting Erik’s eyes. He looked away, stammered, and moved to the coffee machine. Raven and Charles traded looks, and a high five. Raven picked her bread back up. Erik shifted in his chair, sitting upright. Cain rediscovered his tongue along with his courage as soon as Erik was behind him.  
“Didn’t either of you think to put the coffee machine on?” Cain snapped, wrestling with it. “or you, _Erik_?”   
“Sorry Cain.” Charles said, cautiously, eyes low and shoulders hunched. Erik frowned to himself.

“I mean, I don’t know what part of the internet dad or that bitch-“ Idly, Cain threw a spoon at the table. It bounced off a motionless Raven’s arm and clattered to the floor. Erik moved. Cain kept talking. “Ordered you from, or why they got you brats a manny instead of a cage, but jeez, even freaks understand-“ Erik darted around the table, seized the youth by the shoulders, dragged him sideways and slammed him into the nearest wall. Charles made a squawking noise. Cain yelped.  
“Hey- what-“  
“This is your warning, Cain Marko.” Erik said, almost growling. “The children are under my protection. If you value your tongue, or your hands, you will keep them from harming my wards.”

 _“What?”_. Erik sighed again. The young man was _slow_.  
“You used disrespectful and insulting language about and to them.” He pointed out. “You also threw a utensil.” Cain, whose feet were dangling at least three inches from the floor, gaped at him.   
“Fuck you!” Erik lowered his head, and pulled Cain in close.  
“Unlikely.” He hissed. “I know you have hurt them before. I know you enjoy it. I know you plan to do it again. I tell you now; Cain Marko, as I have told your father; hurting my wards again is the last thing you will _ever_ do in this life.”

“You can’t do this!” Cain blustered. “I- Charlie, call the police-“ Erik smiled, and ran his tongue over his pointed teeth.   
“I appear to be doing this.” He pointed out. “And Charles knows the police cannot stop me.”  
“Yes.” Charles said, softly. “And it wasn’t Mum or Kurt who called Erik for help. _I_ did.”  
“You have locked him in a room for the last time, Cain Marko.” Erik said. “From now on, you do not look at them. You do not speak to them, unless you are asked a direct question.” Cain gazed at him in terror and bewilderment.

“If you require clarification; I suggest you speak to your father.” Erik said, and opened his hands, dropping Cain back to the floor. The room went very quiet.  
“Wow.” Raven said. Cain started to glare, but caught Erik’s eye, and looked down at his feet. Erik stepped away, turning his back on the deflated youth, and collected Charles’s and Raven’s dirty crockery. He headed for the sink. Behind him, Erik heard slow, stumbling footsteps as Cain attempted to flee the room slowly enough to soothe his pride.

“Oh- Hey, we can put them in the dishwasher.” Charles said, rapidly. He scrambled out of his chair, and scampered to Erik’s side. His sister followed. “Here, see?”  
Erik squinted. A white metal and plastic box, with racks.  
“How does this cleanse the dishes?” He asked. Raven smiled  
“It squirts water and soap on them; it’s way better than washing up by hand- no wrinkly fingers.” Erik let the children show him how to pack the plates and bowls into the machine.

“Don’t they have dishwashers and microwaves in the other- where you come from?” Charles said.  
“Where _do_ you come from?” Raven said, bouncing eagerly. Erik tilted his head gave her a wry half smile. Erik shook his head.  
“No, Charles, they don’t. And I have not been to your world in a long time.” He said. “And I come from the place where spirits dwell.” Erik said to Raven. She wrinkled her face up.  
“Is that why you talk funny?”  
“Erik talks just fine, he’s just a little older.” Charles said, nervously. He didn’t want Erik to be angry or upset.

“I suspect I am a little out of practice with contemporary vocabulary.” Erik said. He smiled a little. “For example. What is this net Cain spoke of, that supplies workers?”  
“The internet.” Charles said, slowly. “It’s, uh, there are websites, you can read all kinds of stuff.  
“Some of it’s icky.” Raven said. “There were stupid pictures.” Erik frowned.  
“I told you we shouldn’t have looked at that site.” Charles said. “It’s like, uh, a really big library, but it fits in a tiny box. And lots of people put their stuff in it. You can get anything from anywhere, instantly.”

“Show me.” Erik said.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik surfs the net and watches his children play, until Sharon comes along, and they have a heart to heart...
> 
>  
> 
> Does Erik have a heart?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Sharon's poor parenting, domestic abuse victimhood and alcoholism.

Erik balanced the thin slab of plastic and metal on his knees and glanced over at Charles and Raven, who were making spirited attempts to kill each other, or at least burst their lungs yelling. Satisfied all was well, he turned back to the _laptop._ Charles had been right, the internet was very interesting if a little- he frowned at the screen and backpaged- unreliable, as to the accuracy of the contents. Still, this Wikipedia could be a mighty resource indeed.  
“Do not try climbing your brother, Raven.” Erik said, without looking up. “Climb a tree and consider dropping on him, if you think you need height. Or shift to a taller form.” Charles squawked, wordlessly indignant.

Erik clicked on another link, and considered. So far, he had been with the children for two weeks. Neither of the Markos had come near them; the house had basically split into two, possibly three households; the Marko men and the Xavier children, with Erik. And Sharon, the mother of his wards, who Erik had not seen since that late night encounter on the stairs. The desperate, fearful shine had gone out of his children’s eyes. When he left them Erik knew it returned, but they were beginning to believe that while he was there, all would be well.

It was a beginning. 

Of course, along with making sure they ate the right foods and learned as much as their minds would hold, Erik had to make sure they- “Do not use water bombs, Charles. The hose contains a greater supply of water.”- learned that they could stand alone, and be safe; that although they needed Erik now, as they grew, they would become capable of so much in themselves.   
“Love is proved in the letting go.” Erik murmured to himself, still selfishly glad that his Charles and his Raven were so young, that he might have years to care for them before he had to stand aside and leave them to grow by themselves.

It was always hard, handing one’s ward over to adulthood’s independence, if they had come under protection as children. Erik went back to studying the internal combustion engine. It seemed a very interesting device. He would ask Charles to show him a stationary car soon.  
“Well, this all looks nice and harmless.” A woman’s voice said. Erik stood, and bowed.  
“Madame.” He said, courteously. “I have hoped to be able to speak to you.” Sharon raised an eyebrow, and sat on the garden seat next to Erik’s. She seemed fairly sober. _An interesting change._ Erik mused.

“You- you’re still here. I mean, really here.” She said, after a moment. “With my kids.” A faint accusation laced her words. Erik ignored it.  
“Your son called for help.” he said, calmly. “I came. While they need me to be here, I will be here. When they need me not to be here, I will go.”  
“Nice words.” Sharon said, eyes darting away. She lit a cigarette with shaking hands. Erik allowed it to stay lit. He had learned of the dangers of passive smoking yesterday, but they were outside, and the children were not nearby.   
“It is.” Erik said, smiling. “My nature. My self, if you prefer.” She blanched at the sight of his teeth.

“To what, look after kids?” Sharon said, harshly. “You’re not even _human_. What _are_ you?”  
“I am a protection. A spirit.” Erik said, quietly. “Something beyond your knowledge.” _And understanding._ He added, silently to himself.  
“I don’t-“  
“I am not mortal.” Erik said. “And I can do things which few mortals can, and things which no mortal can.” Sharon looked terrified. “But I will not bring harm to your door.” Erik said, gently. “I am, as I said, a protection. I cannot be otherwise.”

“You look after the weird kids?” Sharon said, sardonically. “That’s not creepy at all.”  
“I protect where protection is needed.” Erik said. “Often children, but not always.”  
“Where were you when I was growing up, then, and the whole world was crazy?” Sharon said, bitterly, before clamping her mouth shut.  
“No one called me, or one like me, to you.” Erik said, a little sadly. “I cannot go where I have not been called. None of us can.”

“There’s more like you?” Sharon said. She looked away again, but this time her eyes followed her children.  
“Not so many, these days.” Erik said. “I am a spirit of protection; but there are other spirits; justice, vengeance, truth…” he trailed off, thinking of patterns and faces he was unlikely to see again.  
“No forgiveness, huh?” Sharon said, a bitter twist to her lips and a hurt look in her eyes. Erik looked at her, surprised. 

“Forgiveness is a choice, and an act.” He said. “And not mine to make or grant. Your children’s, possibly. You should be glad, perhaps, that I am a protection, and not a judgement.” Sharon winced. Erik could not regret the pain the truth brought her. She had valued her need to drink more than her children’s needs.  
“You’re right. I’m a terrible mother. A terrible _person._ Dig under the gloss, and the booze, and you’ll just find shit, I know!” She said, frankly. “Not like I had any experience, but-“

“Growing up.” Erik said. “Your sight would have been difficult to understand, if no one taught you what it was.” Sharon nodded.  
“Booze makes it go. Not the only thing I needed it for but-“  
“You didn’t _need_ it.” Erik said. “But you came to depend on it. How you came to be caught in that tangle, I can understand.”  
“Oh.” Sharon said. She looked at her children again. Raven had shifted into a large, male form, and was carrying Charles on her shoulders.

“But what I do not understand is why you could not cut yourself free of that tangle, once you had your children to consider.” Erik said, his tone not much warmer than ice. Sharon shivered.  
“Like it would have been that easy?” Sharon took a drag of her cigarette.  
“I did not say it would have been easy. But you could have done that, or cut the children free from you. Instead, you chose Marko.”

“I- look, I know I’m a shitty parent!” Sharon said, a little shrilly. “I can’t- I’d go to feed Charles, and I’d just- be off with the fairies. I’d wake up the next day, and he’d-“ she scrubbed at her eyes. “I needed someone reliable. Stable. Because I couldn’t be.”  
“They are certainly reliably violent.” Erik said, dryly. Sharon scowled.  
“They weren’t at first. Kurt. Kurt was… charming. Then, when he started- he only hit me. And then, then… I was afraid. I knew I couldn’t do it alone, and… I knew he’d never let me go.” Erik nodded.

“He will now.” He promised the shattered woman beside him. “If you decide on it.”  
“Why? You gonna kill him if he won’t divorce me?” Sharon said, mocking.   
“I doubt I would be so kind as to let him die.” Erik said, thoughtfully. Sharon stopped smiling.  
“Uh-“ She said, uncertainly.  
“Carrying out my threats is unlikely to be necessary.” Erik said, cheerfully. “When I made him aware of them, he could not control his bladder, so-“ A giggle bubbled out of Sharon. She looked shocked.

Charles thundered up to them, eyes bright, and dripping wet.   
“Erik, Erik, put the lap top away and-“ his smile faded. “Hello, Mum.” He said carefully. Sharon looked back at him, nervous and strained.  
“Having fun, Charles?” She said, carefully. Erik snapped shut the laptop, and traced a pattern of protection on its lid before setting it aside.   
“It’s- it’s messy, but it’s ok, I promise.” Charles said, shifting from foot to foot. “And no one- no one’s around, so Raven can change-“ 

Sharon nodded, and smiled, encouragingly. Charles looked startled.  
“Erik- will you-“ Charles said, hopefully.  
“I will put away the computing device.” Erik said. “And then you are welcome to try and soak me.” Charles grinned.   
“I’ll go plan with Raven!” he said, and hurried off. Sharon looked a little wistful.  
“You should join us.” Erik said. “The weather is warm. And the water carries no disease.”  
“You checked, huh?” Sharon said, wryly. “Better not. I could go off on one of my head trips.”

Erik stood up, and looked at her. His wards’ mother. She could be as great a source of protection and nurture as anything Erik could do himself.  
“I can keep your mind here, for a short while, if it wanders.” He said. “And perhaps find you some training to prevent it happening as often in the future.” Sharon stared at him.  
“Are you _real_?” she said, suddenly suspicious. “Because- because, you can’t just-“  
“As real as you are.” Erik gave her a small smile. Sharon looked pensive for a moment, and then she nodded, decisively to herself.  
“Let’s do this.” She said, and stood, extinguishing her cigarette. 

Erik put the laptop into the pocket of space for delicate things at the side of his chair.  
“Water bombs?” he said, thoughtfully. “Or….” He trailed off.  
“I know my children.” Sharon said, eyes lighting up. “They’re cunning little buggers. Get the second hosepipe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right. So, Sharon. She's not been a decent parent to the children.  
> She's a victim of domestic abuse, and an alcoholic. I want to make it clear than those are reasons, not excuses, for her previous behaviour, in my mind. They're her kids; she owed it to them to sort herself out. But I also want to say that people and the situations they find themselves in in real life are complex.  
> I don't want to make anyone feel bad about themselves, here. People don't have an Erik around to lay things out for them and do magic to sort out their lives, because real life is not like fanfic.  
> Else I would, at the very least, be a _librarian_ of international fame and mystery.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik and Raven and a teacher have a conversation or two.

Erik eyed the nervous man across from him, patiently. Schooling had changed among mortals since he had last had a ward to protect. That boy had hired tutors, until he was old enough to head to a university. Here, it seemed, most children left their houses for education at a much younger age, but returned daily to their homes. It was a reasonably sensible idea, he supposed. Erik has always considered learning to be a weapon in the hands of his wards, another way for them to protect themselves. That had not changed.

Kurt had demanded his new wife and family move into a smaller, cheaper house not long after he’d married Sharon, dragging Charles from the class and school friends he’d managed to make, and tipping him in at the deep end in Cain’s school. That had been bad enough, Erik considered, but he’d flatly refused to let Raven go to school _anywhere._ Charles had done his best, but Raven had never gone to school before Erik had been summoned. With the hasty departure of Kurt and his son from the Xaviers’ lives, he was determined this would change, since Raven wanted it, even if Charles worried.  
   
Charles needed to learn it was no longer his duty to worry about his sister. His mother was slowly coming to terms with her addictions, and learning to manage the sight that had caused her to fall into them. This was causing tensions, but Erik thought the mortals would resolve it all in time. Erik would worry about both children, of course, until they were laid in their graves, but if either of them needed him whilst living, he could be there in three heartbeats.  
The school was small, and helpfully close to the Xaviers’ real house, in Westchester. There was no question of Charles being re admitted to its portals. Raven seemed to be another matter.  
   
“I fail to see what precisely the problem is.” Erik said, calmly. The teacher gave him a slightly harried glance. Erik looked at him, impassively.  
“Well, your ward-“ Erik cut him off.  
“Her name is Raven Xavier.” He pointed out firmly. The man started to sweat.  
“Yes. Raven. I’m, I’m sure she’s a lovely girl, but, really, her special requirements- I’m not sure we-“  
“She has been home schooled until now.”  Erik said, still calmly. “But Raven is a bright girl- you have seen her test results.”  
   
He leant forwards. The Principal leaned back. “What _special requirements_ does she have that any other child who seeks school education for the first time may lack?” There was an uncomfortable silence.  
“She’s- _blue_!” the teacher says, spluttering “I-“  
“That is not an _educational need_.” Erik snapped, turning his head to check that Raven, happily talking to the school librarian in the next room, didn't hear. “That is her _skin colour_. Are you telling me that children have to be a particular skin colour to be allowed in your school?”  
   
The teacher paled. Erik smiled, slightly. The internet (and Charles) told him a lot about American’s recent history; he’s pleased to note some of it was more useful than he had expected it to be.  
“N-no, of course not.” He rose and fluttered around the room. Erik ponders, not for the first time, how this man can call himself a teacher of the young. He seems so foolish, not a spark of fire in him. Does he really want his ward learning from such as him?  
“I suppose…” the teacher says. “I mean, there are gloves, and, um, concealers…  
   
“There are _not_ ” Erik snapped. “How dare you tell her to cover up; simply because you’re not used to looking at her? You’re a teacher, man, what are you _thinking?_ Fear of the unknown; shame and hiding, is _this_ a lesson you want your children to learn at your school?” There was a small, scorching silence.  
“No.” the principal said, quietly, and then, more loudly. “No. You’re right- They deserve better lessons.” He gave Erik a strained but respectful smile. Erik nodded, in acknowledgement, and waited.  
   
“School starts in two weeks.” The man said, thoughtfully. “I’ll talk to her now.” Erik stood, and rapped on the window. When Raven looked up, he beckoned towards her. She grinned and hurried in to the office.  
“Please sit down, Raven.” The teacher said. “I’m the principal of this school- you understand what that means?”  
“You’re the boss.” Raven said, carefully. “The boss of all the school.”  
“That’s right.” Erik turned to head for the door.  
   
“Erik?” Raven said, anxiously. She was not yet at ease with new people, Erik knew. Strange adults worried her.  
“You will be fine.” Erik said, briskly. “He wants to hear from _you_ , I cannot talk your words for you.” Raven blinked.  
“Oh.” She said, in a small voice.  
“I’ll be right outside, though.” Erik added, more gently. “Right there.” He pointed.  
“Three heartbeats?” Raven said, and he nodded.  
“Just three.”  
   
He closed the door behind him.  
   
“Now, er, Raven, is it?” Mr Principal said. Raven eyed him. He wasn't mean sounding like Kurt, and he looked nicer than Cain. She nodded.  
“Do you want to come to my school?” He said, and Raven sat up, eagerly.  
“Oh, yes!” she said. “Charles says learning is fun, sometimes, and I’d… I’d like to meet some people my own age.” He nodded. “And… everyone else goes to school. I want to.”  
“People your own age.” Said Mr Principal. He sounded funny.  
“They wouldn't have to like me.” She promised. “Kurt, he always said people wouldn't, so-“  
“Kurt?”  
   
“My stepfather. Erik made him go way away.” Raven said, happily. Mr Principal now had a funny expression to go with his voice.  
“I… see.” He said, blankly. “Will Erik be your new stepfather?”  
“No!” Raven said in horror. “He’s not like that at all; he came to look after us!”  
“Ah.”  
“And he says some people might not- might think I’m funny because I’m blue but it’s up to me if I want to go to school.” Raven said, pointedly.  
“He’s not wrong.” The principal said, a bit sadly. “How do you feel about that?”  
   
“Kinda funny.” Raven said. “I don’t know why people don’t like blue.” She shrugged. “But if they hit me I’m gonna bite them.” She bared her teeth in a smile as like to one of Erik’s as she could. It wasn't as terrifying though. Mr Principal didn't look scared at all.  
“We generally frown on fighting and bullying, here, Miss Xavier.” He said, sternly. She drooped. Erik didn't like it when she argued with Charles, either.  
“Yeah.” she said, sadly. “Charles says. But I want to go to school anyway. ”

Mr Principal looked thoughtful.  
“What do you think you will learn at a school you can't learn by yourself?”  
Raven looked scornful.  
“All kinds of things!” she said. “People, and music and, and packed lunches and having your own locker and things.”  
“Ah.” Mr Principal smiled. 

“And, I want- I want to understand.” Raven said. “Mom- she's not happy, And Kurt and Cain were always mean, and Charles gets so worried, and I want to know why, and how to stop it.”  
“Well, I can't promise you we'll be able to teach you that.” the Principal said. “Some kinds of learning you have to do on your own time. But math, and Science, and literature and all the rest- we can do those.” Raven smiled. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time-skip chapter, basically.

The old big house is quietly accepting of the noise and clutter than comes from a family with two children. It has seen generations grow up, and old, under its sheltering roof, and remained strong. Erik approves; it has done a good job for Xaviers past. The larger house means more people; Erik could keep the place clean and repaired by himself, but that would drain his resources unnecessarily. Cleaners and a gardener come part time. Erik studies them all intently; only one has to be let go. He doesn’t deal well with Raven’s blueness, and Erik thinks it is tidier to fire him than eviscerate him.

The presence of other mortals requires Erik to explain his presence, from time to time. He selects a room to be “his” far away from Sharon’s soon after one maid reveals her belief he is a boyfriend. Charles does his best to make the room look lived in by a human. Erik’s not sure the vast number of books on every wall was actually a good idea, in that respect, but he likes them, anyway. Raven makes sure there are things like hairbrushes and toothpaste and socks about the place. Eventually, Erik even starts wearing mortal clothes, instead of forming them out of his energy patterns. It makes for more believable laundry baskets.

Time passes. Sharon starts taking a college degree. Charles jumps yet another grade. Erik keeps an invisible eye on him, but the other students are mostly accepting of their new fellow student. He doesn’t have to speak to the ones who are not; Charles is able to stand up for himself now he knows Erik will back him up. Raven bites one bully; and when Charles protests that he can defend himself; points out that she knows that, but the bully will get in more trouble for picking on a younger girl. She is right.

Erik salutes her strategy; and points out to Charles that by standing up for himself, he’s also protecting the bullies from a visit from Erik, which makes Charles smile and relax. The boy still has a fear of being assertive on his own behalf. Erik does visit one bully, the worst, but all he has to do once he’s there is call CPS- the bully was only repeating at the School what his parent had taught him. Erik really doesn’t understand humans, at times, but he likes the ideas behind CPS, even if they are nowhere near as skilled in their protection of children as Erik is.

He does a little work on their behalf, not much; but if he picks up on troubled children in his monitoring of his wards, he ensures that some responsible adult reports the matter.. And the times that CPS cannot do all they should, well. One school caretaker has a sad car accident. He lives, but his spine is shattered. His son starts to do better at school, despite the stress. Some parents have life threatening experiences which cause them to rethink their work-life balances. Erik knows that he is pushing towards the limits of what he may do, but he cannot be other than he is

Raven struggles at school, some of the learning proving difficult. Not the books, but the other pupils. Sharon ignored her, emotionally, at least, and Cain and Kurt were vicious but stupid. Charles has almost always tried to give her everything he thinks she wants and needs, rather than what she asks for. None of this has left Raven knowing quite how to say please and thank you or wait her turn automatically. She’s never had to negotiate, or to share with equals quite like this. It’s a rocky road for her, and being blue doesn’t help.

It’s not a hopeless situation though. Raven is capable of learning a great deal. Charles can give her a few pointers, with his telepathy, and Erik can listen, and add a few comments to make her more thoughtful of others, just as she needs. Raven is fledging fast, now. Sometimes Charles needs a little more, too, as he loses his role as her protector. Erik plaits her hair, ready for the school day, reminding her that she is safe, and loved, and sends her out to face the day knowing she is not alone. He makes Charles’s lunch, and knows the boy will feel the care and affection he put into constructing each sandwich clinging to the bag.

It is hard for Erik to sit back and let his children learn and grow like this. All mortal growth costs; all change is difficult. He knows this, but it is still very hard to see them less than happy, tired, sad, or confused. There are things Erik cannot do for his wards, though, things that they can only learn by doing. He has to restrain his nature in order that they may flourish. If Erik protects them too well from the world, they will remain stunted, children, all their lives. If he carries them all the time, they will never learn that they can fly. 

To give those you love, those you protect the space to grow up, the space to take risks and make mistakes- that too is a protection the children need. They need Aa protection from Erik’s own too-great care. He knows this. Erik was born from a blade; he will not cripple his wards by denying them the right to learn how to make weapons. Erik is an old spirit. His soul is older than steel, and he is much stronger. He knows one day, they will part. One day, they will need him not to be there, that is when he must go. In the meantime, he learns.

Erik grows weary of the internet, and turns his attention to the internal combustion engine as a means of transport, instead. Charles doesn’t understand why a spirit would like cars, but Erik is the only one he knows. Maybe they’re all as intent and curious about their mortal’s worlds. Erik like the shaped metal and moving parts, that move so beautifully, creating power in obedience to the designer’s will and the maker’s craft. During the slower times when his children are in school, and happy, Erik takes himself off to the garage, and gets gloriously oil stained in his pursuit of knowledge.

Eventually, in the minds of most of the community; they decide he is some family connection to the Xaviers, rather than Sharon’s paramour. This is a weight off Erik’s mind; although he has lain with mortals before, it’s not something he is interested in right now. Certainly not with Sharon, who is far too emotionally frail. And then the single parents (and some not so single) see Erik as available, and things get a little fraught at the school gates until he gets the message through that it will not be happening with any of _them_

For Sharon, the house holds rather more difficult memories; the ghost of her first husband’s death, and her descent into chaotic alcoholism. It’s hard for her here, but she remains sober, and Erik does for her what he can. It’s not enough, not after a lifetime of untrained and unrestrained sight in a mortal frame. Erik cannot do much more for her; she did not call him, and she is not usually in physical danger. The human mind is a tricky thing, and Erik is better suited to nurture than repair, there. Sharon still has black outs and hallucinations, although they have become benign since the Markos fled. 

Erik does not know where they went; nor does he much care. Sharon says something about “no-fault divorce papers” and a “fake pre-nup”, but Erik doesn’t understand it. Kurt knew perfectly well if he had attempted to steal from Erik’s wards, there was no power in this or any other world that would have kept him safe from Erik’s wrath. They had money enough from the Xavier wealth before he came on the scene; and Kurt fancied himself a big business man. Let them manage with that.

Charles and Raven grow less wary of their mother; and she grows less defensive of her conduct and less afraid of hurting them with her presence, as opposed to her absence. There are tears and shouting, on both sides, at times, but never bruises. Eventually some kind of truce or understanding is met, and they go on, a family marked by the painful past, but not mutilated. Sharon grows less wary of Erik; but she never becomes comfortable with him. It is not unusual; and as her attitude to Erik does not harm her children, he lets it be.

It’s not perfect, but they all survive, and the children flourish, as the years go by.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oxford days. Erik and Raven go punting. Charles passes a test, and they all eat icecream.

The golden end-of-summer sun poured over the pale stone walls of the city, bathing the river with almost unseasonable warmth. Erik tensed his shoulders and pushed against the pole, sending the punt a few feet further down the river.   
“Nearly back at the bank.” He reported to his companion. The blue girl opened her eyes.  
“I love it here.” She said, trailing her fingers in the water. “a lot of people really don’t care about me looking different. It’s so…”  
“But Oxford’s in _another country._ The UK’s _old_ It rains all the time there!” Erik said, amused. Raven pouted.

“Yeah, fine, tease the little sister.” She folded her arms. “I thought it meant he’d go, and you’d go with him…” She looked away, awkwardly. Erik’s smile softened.  
“Raven. You know I do not leave my wards; not when they still need me.”  
“And when-“  
“Charles is sixteen.” Erik said, calmly. “You are fourteen. In the modern world, neither of you are old enough to live alone.” Although, even had they been, Erik doubted he would have left them, yet.

“Tell that to Mom.” Raven said, and her eyes flashed yellow.  
“Your mother’s, ah, medical problems mean that Oxford is not a place she is able to live in, even though it is the best place for Charles and for you, so she let you come here, in my care.” Erik said, quietly. “She loves you both as much as she can, not as much as you deserve.” He held the punt steady as a lone canoeist sweated past them. The ripples of her wake spread out and faded against the banks.

“I’m the blue shifter girl.” Raven said, sadly. Idly, she remembered their first meeting; how Charles had asked Erik to “fix” her. “I don’t-“  
“No.” Erik corrected her, firmly. “You are the beautiful shifter girl.”   
“Bet none of your wards were this weird loo-“  
“Raven.” Erik said, moving to break her cycle of anger and resentment. “Almost all my wards were uncomfortable with their appearances and the regard of others as they grew up.” Raven looked away.  
“You helped them get over it, I bet.” 

“Where I could. _You_ always have a choice, as to how others perceive you.” Erik added.  
“I could hide myself, right?” She tried not to sound bitter. “Like you?” Erik shrugged.  
“You don’t even age.” Raven said, almost at random  
“I do not alter, as my nature is not much for it.” Erik said, and started the punt moving again.  
“So why-“  
“You are no spirit.” Erik said, dryly. “I assume this form because in it I may move on the face of the mortal world with the minimum of fuss. But this-“ Erik gestured over his face and body with his free hand- “is my form, too. It is only partially not what I am.”

Raven sighed. Being fourteen and a shapeshifter was hard. At least she had her brother, and Erik, even if the snarky old spirit didn’t always understand.  
“Schools’ different. Everyone’s supposed to want to _blend_.”  
Her teachers in the US had always been on at her to blend in; by which most of them had meant, look more averagely human.  
“Or stand out more.” Erik said. “You can do so much; grow wings, turn another colour, be a man.” He smiled. Raven frowned.

“None of that’s me, though. People react to what they see, not who-“ Erik cocked his head and smiled more widely as she paused. “Oh. Right.” Raven said, as the penny dropped. “Damn you.” She added.  
“I still don’t get why Mom wouldn’t come, though.” Raven said, and made a face at the water. Erik sighed and pushed the pole again. The water swirled around the boat with a similar sound.  
“Oxford is old.” He reminded her gently. “You know there are places I cannot go easily, here.”  
“Old signs and stuff, yeah.” Raven said. “It- you’re sure they don’t hurt you?”

“They do not.” Erik said. “A little pressure on the boundaries of my self is not the same thing as pain.” He was mostly telling the truth. Some of the old spells did not hurt; mostly the ones old enough to have been made when mortals could distinguish between spirit and demon-kind. Some of the others were painful; they nagged and whined in Erik’s skull incessantly when he was near them, damping his senses and reducing his strength. They were all remnants from long ago, as far as Erik could tell. None of them had been placed or refreshed within his wards’ lifetimes, certainly.

“Mom’s not a spirit of protection.” Raven said, staring back at the glassy river surface.  
“She has the sight, and has never learnt to control it.” Erik said. “There are many things here; leftovers, ghosts, call them what you will. She would not be able to stop seeing them; it would drive her mad.”  
“Couldn’t Charles have picked another university to educate his massively underage genius brain?” Raven said, as the punt dock appeared upstream.  
“Yes.” Erik said, calmly. “But most of the universities in Europe are old enough to have this problem, or one very like it, and he did not wish to join the league of ivy, for much the same reasons.”

Raven grinned.  
“It’s Ivy League, and you know it, you old fraud.” Erik smiled, but did not comment as he brought the punt closer to the bank.  
“E-RIK! RAVEN!” Reflexively, Erik whirled, seeking for the threat. The boat rocked, dangerously. Charles waved, violently, from the riverbank. He was beaming.  
“Ah- Erik…” Raven said, nervously.  
“Stay seated.” Erik said, crisply, and balanced the boat with a minor pattern. No one would notice; not on the waters this close to the dock. He brought the punt into the riverbank.

He tied up, paid the surly Canadian man for the hire of the boat, and helped Raven back onto dry land before turning to his other ward.  
“What is it, Charles?”  
“Got my results!” Charles said, grinning as he waved a paper at them.  
“And?” Raven said, eager.  
“I passed. Top marks in the study group!” Charles said, happily astonished. Erik smiled.

“That’s brilliant!” Raven said. She slid an arm though Charles’ and turned to lead him away. “That’s ice cream-worthy levels of brilliant.” She added, turning her head pointedly towards Erik. Charles’ eyes lit up.  
“I suppose it is.” Erik said. The young people- Erik supposed he could no longer call them children, although they still seemed so to him- set off, directly, for Raven’s favourite café. Erik meandered along behind them, hands in his pockets. Idly, he began to wonder how long they would still need his protection. Erik breathed in. It would be his duty, to let them go. 

To let them grow, no longer needing him. And it would not be much longer, he thought. Perhaps a decade, no more. A pang seized him. He would miss them, the bright beautiful boy and his brilliant blue sister. And fulfilling his duty, acting so purely on his nature, protecting those who needed it- who knew when such a task would come to him again? Raven laughed, and Charles glanced back to check Erik was following them. Erik put aside his wistful thoughts and hastened his step, catching up with his wards as they entered the little café, setting the bell jangling.

The little place served some of the finest ice cream, Erik had been told, in all of Oxford.  
“Ah, one chocolate ice cream, one strawberry sundae, and one coffee, please.” Charles said, sweetly to the waitress. She beamed back.  
“You still don’t like ice cream, huh?” Raven said, to Erik. He shook his head.  
“Cold foods, inside… I am not comfortable with them.” He sipped his coffee placidly.  
“And besides, he likes coffee.” Charles said, peaceably. Erik tilted his head, in acknowledgement.  
“I like coffee.” Erik rumbled, in agreement. 

Raven made fast work of her sundae. Charles ate his ice cream more slowly.  
“I need to go to the Bodleian.” He said, quietly. “Maps of the plague.” Raven stiffened.  
“But Erik can’t-“ she said, and Charles nodded.   
“I can.” Erik said, calmly. His wards looked dubious. “It is not comfortable; but I can always go there, if you-“   
“No, it hurts you.” Charles said firmly, and Erik blinked. He did not like the Bodleian, it was true, but the wear on his spirit was not more than he could bear, not when he had a ward to protect. Erik opened his mouth to say as much and Charles hurried into speech again.

“It’s a library, it’s safe enough. I can meet you there, afterwards.” Erik closed his mouth. “Please, Erik.” Charles said. “I don’t- I don’t like it. It’s harder studying, knowing that being there is bad for you.” Erik smiled, crookedly.  
“I am old.” He reminded them. “I am strong, it would not damage me.” Charles frowned. “But, if you prefer, I will not accompany you. Keep in touch with me.” He tapped Charles on the temple, softly. “No cellular phones allowed.” He reminded Charles, as the boy beamed again.  
“We can go look round the Pitt Rivers, and you can tell me what they’ve mislabelled.” Raven coaxed. “Again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not that I'm name checking places in Oxford I love, or anything, no...


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BOOM, here comes the plot!
> 
> (Or, Charles does some research, meets a Professor, and then there is ACTION.)

Charles’ head was full of fevers and sicknesses from the past, and his thoughts were fixed solely on the mortality maps he’d been studying for the past three hours. His stomach rumbled as he stood on the steps of the library.  
 _-Erik?-_ he sent, and felt the full focus of Erik’s attention swing towards him. _\- I’m done at the library. Are you at home or-_  
 _-Shopping-_ the protective spirit grumbled at him. _**-Still.** Remain by the library. We will come and join you-_

Charles had to grin. An ancient, blade born spirit of protection, and he was trapped in the waiting areas outside Marks and Spencer’s ladies changing rooms. It was funny.  
“Charles!” Somebody called his name with false, over loud, heartiness. Charles looked up, and when he saw who had spoken, he had to bite back a curse. Charles did not like Professor Sebastian Shaw. He smiled too widely, and, unlike Erik, his teeth were too human and his eyes too cold.  
“Ah, our young prodigy!” Plus, he was oily. Briefly, Charles wished he could get Erik to make him go away.

“Good afternoon, sir.” Charles said aloud, politely. “Are you researching or-“  
“Oh, I’m done for the day.” The Professor said, cheerily. “But what about you, young man? Surely your, ah, guardians haven’t abandoned you to the tender mercies of the college completely?”  
“I’m sixteen, not six, sir. I can go to a library all by myself.” Charles said. Sebastian Shaw’s eyes turned colder, and his smile shifted. Charles gulped.  
“I’m waiting for my sister and guardian now, sir.” He said, quickly. Shaw smiled again. Charles breathed out. He hoped Erik would get here soon.

“Ah. I was wondering, if you were hungry.” Shaw said. His voice turned sly, insinuating. “You have a lean and hungry look about you, you know, all three of you.”   
“Do we, sir?” Charles said, politely. Privately he was suddenly very glad Raven had stayed blonde around all the academics Charles had to deal with. He drifted down the steps towards the road. He wanted to touch Shaw’s mind, make him go away, but the place was too public for Charles to risk a slip.  
“Oh, don’t play coy with me, boy. I can spot potential in anyone.” Shaw said, smiling, smiling. “I can tell there’s more to you than meets the eye.” 

Charles stepped away again. Shaw followed him.  
 _-Charles.-_ Charles tried not to let his relief show too easily. _-We come.-_ Erik was almost here; and he doubted Professor Shaw would hang around long after Erik got his number.  
“I think, perhaps, we should all have dinner together. We’ve so much to teach each other” Shaw said, eyes gleaming. “If your… _guardian_ approves.”  
“He does not.” Erik said, curtly, from behind them. Charles relaxed. Erik was there. He was safe. He hurried to Erik’s side. Shaw inclined his head, slowly, towards Erik. Erik did not move. The spirit was staring at Shaw. 

Shaw was staring back; and Charles could not tell which of them was the cat and which was the mouse.  
“Where’s-“ Charles croaked, and flushed.  
“She took a taxi.” Erik said, eyes never moving from Shaw. “Too much to carry.” He said, shrugging, and Charles gave a strained laugh.  
“I’m ready to go.” He said. “Goodbye, Professor Shaw.” Shaw nodded, but he never took his eyes off Erik. Erik put an arm around Charles’ shoulders as they hurried away.

“That man is dangerous.” Erik said, as they turned the corner. “He smells of strange magics.”  
“Was… Is Professor Shaw human, like me?” Charles said, slowly. “I- he’s been a bit odd, before but that was- it was almost like he recognised you.”  
“Shaw is human, yes.” Erik shrugged. “Like you? Never.” He smiled. “I do not think he would know how to recognise one of my kind.” He said, and Charles knew he meant his fellow spirits. “We’re rare beings.”

“I don’t know what he wanted.” Charles said, as they walked down the narrow street. “But he was really, really creepy. I should scan his mind-“ Erik shook his head, warningly.  
“I said he was dangerous. And you are too young, Charles. Don’t attract his attention.”  
“Bit late for that.” Charles said, ruefully “You know.” Erik nodded.  
“ I can deal with him, but I would prefer to know what it is I must fight first. Until then, never be alone with him; if you are to be near him for your classes, call on me; make sure I-“

“Actually, I think I really must insist you re-consider my invitation.” A voice said, behind them. Erik whirled, pushing Charles behind him defensively. Charles’ eyes narrowed, and his hand crept to his temple.  
“He said no.” Erik said, simply. Shaw spread his hands wide.  
“Oh, I didn’t really mean him.” He said. A van screeched to a halt, blocking them in between Shaw and the high walls of the little street. Charles’s eyes flew wide with horror.  
“Run, Erik!” he shouted, desperately. Erik turned to him, startled.  
“I defend-“ Erik said. Charles and Shaw both spoke at once.

“He wants you!” Charles said, pulling at Erik’s shoulder. “I don’t think-“  
“I meant you, Erik.” Professor Shaw said. “And I really don’t intend on taking no for an answer.” The van doors opened, and two burly men got out. Erik growled.  
“He can’t have me.” He said, over his shoulder, to Charles. “ _Or_ you.” Erik seized Charles by the belt and heaved him up. - _Get over the wall. It’s garden beyond, run though and bang on the-_  
 _-ERIK, run!_ \- Charles shouted, silently. _-I’ve seen his mind, you’ve got to run. He thinks you’re a demon and-_

Shaw laughed, and gestured. The burly men rushed at them. Erik heaved Charles onto the wall, and whirled to face them. He moved, faster than human eye could follow, and soon both men were groaning on the floor. Erik turned to Shaw, who was still laughing.   
“ _-GO-_ ” Erik bellowed at Charles, as he advanced. Charles jerked and startled swinging his leg over the wall. Shaw shot him. Charles gave a startled cry and toppled into the garden behind the wall. Erik roared in fury, and ran at Shaw. He could feel Charles’s bewildered pain; his ward was alive, but-

Agony exploded in his chest. Startled Erik looked down to see a dark dampness erupting through his shirt. The bullet had done real damage; Erik could feel it doing more. What kind of a weapon could do that to him? The world blurred around him, and he felt cold; ice cold and weak. Erik swore; suddenly unable to draw on most of his resources of energy. He was cut off from his healing, he could not even dematerialise back into the spirit realm, and leave the bullet in the material realm. He would have to think fast to get Charles out of here.

The two burly men began to drag themselves to their feet. Briefly, the spirit regretted not killing them when he had the chance. He had to get the bullet out before it drained him completely. Erik put his hand to the entry wound. Too deep to dig out easily, and- Shaw shot him again. Erik fell to his knees. Frantic now, he scrabbled at his belly, and his chest, but the strength sapping bullets evaded his grasp; and it was becoming harder to-

“Don’t fight them.” Shaw said, silky with triumph. Erik put a hand out, jerkily, trying not to fall on his face. “They’re going to do a lot more to you than restrain your material form.”  
“What-?” Erik said aloud.  
“And don’t worry about your master.” Shaw said, happily. “We’ll bring him along, shortly.” Erik made a convulsive effort, and rose to his feet again.  
“You- will not- touch him!” he said, staggering towards Shaw. Shaw frowned, and stepped backwards, irritatingly slowly.

“Or what, demonling?” he said, sneering. “Look at you. The power is pouring out of you.” Erik looked down. There were dark splatters all over the dusty street. “You’re fading already.” Shaw sneered. Erik took another step towards him. It was true, the bullets hurt. More than any mortal weapon ever should, to one of his nature. But Erik could not feel the Void tugging at him; and so he knew he was in no danger of obliteration. He moved forwards a step.  
“I may be- fixed- to the- material world.” He gasped out. “But I am- hardly- stopped-“ There was a dazzling explosion of pain in his head. Erik cried out, reeling. Hands grasped his arms, interrupting his fall. 

“Quickly, the bindings.” Shaw said, from somewhere far away. “You. Get the brat; he’ll know its name.” _Charles_ Erik thought, blearily, and began to struggle harder, even as his limbs were forced together and heavy, bonds applied, even as a velvet bag embroidered with sigils was slid over his head, choking off his Sight and his other senses completely. Charles was in danger, Charles was hurt, and he could not fail his ward. He could not let him be harmed, could not-

The blow that finally sent him into darkness was almost merciful.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Charles, thanks to the Gods of Authorial Co-incidence, meets two potential allies.

“Explain how you did that.” Doctor Henry McCoy, known as Hank said, tightly, to the teenage boy he’d found bleeding in the back garden. “And let me have a look at your shoulder.”  
“Did what?” The boy blinked huge blue eyes.  
“One minute I have… _thugs_ breaking down my front door; and the next you’re looking at them and they’ve decided they’ve already ransacked the house, and they’re leaving.”  
“You think I had something to do with that?” Charles said, curious.

“Yes. Like I think you’re having something to do with why I called your sister, but I’m not calling the police or an ambulance.” Charles gulped. He hadn’t expected the doctor to notice that.  
“It’s not a very big wound.” He said, looking at it. “The bullet-“  
“The bullet covered in weird symbols and made of strange alloys?” Hank said, curtly. “It went straight through.” He said a little more softly. “I don’t- this is a bullet wound, I’m not going to monkey around. I’m just going to put some antiseptic on it, and cover it, for now, okay?” 

Charles nodded and said.   
“Thanks.”   
“This might hurt.” Hank added. “Sorry.” He took the saline, and flushed the wounds carefully. Charles whimpered, and Hank felt a strange, sympathetic burning in his own shoulder.  
“I’m really really sorry,” Charles said, sadly “but I can’t- they wouldn’t understand.”  
“Are you sure about that?” Hank smeared antiseptic cream over the exit and entry wounds, and laid gauze over them. He fumbled for the surgical tape.

“I can’t risk it.” Charles said, firmly. “Just- I can’t, that’s all.”  
“What can’t you risk?” Alex poked his head into the kitchen, and tensed, looking at Charles, who was feeling fairly battered.  
“Hank; what have we said about bringing jailbait back to the house?” he snapped. “It’s not-“  
“I’m not jailbait!” Charles snapped. Alex snorted.  
“Kid, if you’re old enough to shave-“ he said, amusedly. Charles interrupted him.

“I’m sixteen, but-“ he moved incautiously, and winced. Alex’s eyes darkened.  
“You’re hurt.” He said, flatly, moving into the room to crouch in front of Charles’ chair.  
“Hank is a doctor.” Charles said, defensively.  
“I know, kid, I live with him.” Alex said. “But he usually deals with microscopes and slides, not shoulder wounds.”  
“Somebody shot him.” Hank said, tightly. “Nobody’s reacted to the gunshots except me and two thugs.” Alex cocked his head. 

“He made them leave. Apparently.” Alex stared at Hank. Hank shrugged. “That’s what it looked like.”  
“I- I think they shot my- they shot Erik, too. They _took_ him.” Charles said. He blinked back tears. This was all his fault. If only he;d noticed Shaw’s intentions early, if only he’d thought to freeze all of them or make Erik run, if only- He kept talking.  
“I have to- he wanted him more, but he’s wrong, Erik’s not a demon, and I have to help him, and-“

“Whoa, slow down.” Alex said, sharply. “Back up. Start at the beginning. Who’s Erik?”  
“You won’t believe me.” Charles said, tiredly.   
“You’re not going to make us believe you?” Hank said, dryly, polishing his glasses. Charles shook his head. Over and over again, Erik had warned him not to use his telepathy to force people’s thoughts. Especially not when he was hurt or frightened. The suggestion to Hank, that he should not heed his knee jerk reaction to call in authorities had been hard enough.

“I- I can’t, not something complex like this, and I couldn’t make it stick, either.” Charles said, despairingly. “It- I can hurt people, if I’m not careful. So, as I said, you won’t-“  
“Try us.” Alex said, leaning forwards, eyes sharp on Charles’s pale face. Charles swallowed.  
“I really won’t blame you if you can’t. How much-?”  
“Start from the beginning.” Alex said, gently. Charles licked his lips, and nodded.  
“I- I was nine years old and my step brother had locked me in the attic. There was a really old book-” 

 

“You can’t possibly believe him.” Hank said, half an hour later, in the kitchen. Alex smiled at him, crookedly. He rolled the bullet Charles had been shot with between his fingers.  
“You going to call the police on him, bozo?”  
“Of course not, I just-“ Hank stopped dead. “That’s strange.” He said, carefully.  
“So’s this.” Alex said, looking at the bullet. “I’ve never seen these symbols used on a weapon before-“  
“Alex, you’re a librarian.” Hank said, slowly. “You don’t even like guns.”  
“Yeah. And… well, yeah.” Alex said, wriggling slightly. “About that…” He trailed off.

“Alex.” Hank said, warningly.  
“Look, I probably should have explained before, but- Charles?” He called into the next room. “Come here, kid.” Charles appeared, wary  
“Do you believe me?” Alex smirked.   
“Oh, I believe you, kid. He’s the sceptic.” Hank looked wounded. “We’ll show him something, kay? Take off your shirt.” Hank look furious. Charles stepped back.  
“Not like that.” Alex said, quickly. “I just want to help.” Charles unbuttoned his shirt, and pulled it off his good shoulder. Alex hissed as he unwound the bandage.

Although Hank had treated it less than an hour ago, Charles’s shoulder was already swollen and hot to the touch. The wounds themselves were still bleeding, sluggishly. Charles craned his neck, trying to see all of it, and winced as the pain shot though his neck. Hank looked grave. Charles bit his lip, and wondered if he could maybe beg for some antibiotics before he had to go and find Erik. Alex squared his shoulders, determinedly.

“Not good. Hank? I need water and salt, please.” Alex said, crisply. Hank was too surprised by the “please” to question him. Silently he handed over a glass of water and the salt shaker. Charles shivered. Alex poured salt into the water glass, let it dissolve, and then dipped his fingers in the salty water.   
“What are you-“ Charles started to say, and then Alex drew a flowing pattern over the bullet wounds with his saltwater-covered fingers. Charles gasped. The wounds began to close and heal.

“Should be done soon.” Alex said, watching the scar form and begin to turn old and pale.  
“You’re like Erik.” Charles said, eyes huge. “You- he does the same thing, without the water-“  
“You’re- this is not-“ Hank babbled.  
“Erik’s way older.” Alex said. “And stronger, if he’s who I think he is. Plus he’s a protection, and I’m- I’m for knowledge.” He was watching Hank rather carefully.  
“You’re a spirit.” Hank said, stunned. Alex nodded. “You’re not human.” Hank added.   
“Yeah.” Alex said. “Was going to tell you eventually, but-“

“Alex- you’ve been living with me for over a year!” Hank said, voice cracking a little.  
“And you would have believed me, when I talked about spirits, or, or pattern-spells, without a mind reading kid, a cursed bullet and a cursed bullet wound?” Alex said, sharply.   
“I thought- did you, do you even like-“ Hank’s eyes were damp.  
“I do a lot more than _like_ you, Henry McCoy.” Alex said, fiercely. “You know that. I was waiting til you were ready, that’s all. Not the only thing I’ve had to do that for.” Hank went pink.

“I- Alex, can you help us? This man, this Professor Sebastian Shaw didn’t know anything about spirits at all, he just thought Erik was my demon; and we have to, have to help him.” Charles said, frantically. Alex’s face shuttered.  
“I’m- I said I was for Knowledge, right? I’m much more limited.” Charles and Hank both nodded. “And I’m- I’m young. There’s only so much I can do.” Charles went white.  
“I- I saw Shaw’s mind; he wants, he’s- he’s going to _hurt_ him. He shot Erik, and it hurt him.”

“I know.” Alex said wearily.  
“Erik saved my life.” Charles said, furiously. “And my sister’s, and maybe my mother’s, and I’m not, I _can’t_ let him down now.”  
“Kid, you’re sixteen.” Alex said. “You said your sister’s fourteen.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “What do the pair of you think you can do?”  
“For Erik? _Anything_.” Charles said, and blinked back tears. He had to plan.

So this spirit might heal him, even if it wouldn’t help further. That was good. If he was able to find out where Erik was now, then maybe- Hank stood up, decisively.  
“I can run some queries on the university’s internal web pages, see if there’s any information on where Shaw lives.” He said, quietly. “And if you give me his faculty or department, I can see if I can charm the secretaries.” Charles looked up at him, hope blazing desperately in his face.

“Hank…” Alex said, slowly. “Do you know what you’re getting yourself into?”  
“No.” Hank said. “But I’m a fast learner.” He smiled, a little shyly. “Especially if I have a good teacher.”   
“Please.” Charles said, frantic again.  
“And.. this whole thing, spirits and demons and powers and spells.” Hank said, as the doorbell went. “I think I’ve got a lot to learn. Don’t you?” He quirked an eyebrow at Alex.  
“Yeah.” Alex breathed, as he headed for the door. “Yeah, you do.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Shaw talks things out with Erik; until he decides to stop asking questions and simply take the answers for himself.
> 
> Warnings:
> 
> Gory nasty torture within. Poor Erik, I am a horrible, horrible person.

Erik opened his eyes to further darkness. He strained all his senses, but he could not feel anything beyond the darkness. For brief, sickening moment, he thought he might already have crossed into the Void, and obliteration, but then common sense caught up with at about the same time as the pain of his wounds. The- his attackers had pulled a bag over his head. Patterned with demon blocking signs. They wouldn’t have the same effect on Erik’s senses, not if he concentrated.

So he did. He could see nothing, of course, but slowly, his other senses reported in. Cold gripping metal on every limb- chains or bindings. A strange smell; that of a hospital, perhaps, mixed with dankness and damp. An voices, arguing over his head.  
“I told you to get the brat! He was human, he obviously controlling it!”  
“He wasn’t in the house. He wasn’t there.” The other responded woodenly. Erik felt a great wash of relief. Charles was not there. They hadn’t been able to find him.  
“Get out of my sight. _Go._ ”

Erik was here, though, wherever here was. He didn’t want to be. Slowly, Erik sounded out the limits of his energy, the bindings on it and him. Most of his energy came from the spirit world, and seem to be blocked from Erik by his chains. He could not break them. More energy was leaching from Erik’s injuries. He could not heal himself. And he could not leave. Erik tried, again, to dissolve, to become immaterial and flow back to the world of his origin, and failed. He would not be returning to guard his wards that way. _Trapped and helpless._ Not good. 

Still, at least the person who had done this did not have his ward, and did not seem to know what Erik was. That was the second time he’d referred to Erik as a demon. Erik breathed out, slowly. He was alone- a good thing- and bound, and in a great deal of pain. The bullets were still, Erik thought, lodged in his body. They were _cold_ , colder than the metal chaining him down, colder than the ice cream he had not eaten earlier in the day. Cold, and they seemed to be drinking up Erik’s warmth, his light. His self.

The bag was ripped from his head.

Erik blinked, against the flood of chilly bright light that ensued. The room was low ceilinged, and damp. It was also windowless- perhaps underground? The walls were covered, as far as Erik could see, with painfully clean, shiny white tiles. Something was humming, faintly. It sounded like a small electrical engine. The air seemed fairly fresh, for underground. A fan, perhaps. Erik turned his head and saw somebody he recognised, watching him.

“What did you do?” the man who had shot his ward demanded, angrily. Erik snarled at him, wordless. “You hid your master, confused my assistant, all half faded from a transfixion bullet!” the man snapped, bending over Erik and shining more light in his eyes. “How did you do that?” Erik said nothing. He closed his eyes, briefly against the burning light. The man- Shaw, Charles had called him, Erik recalled- raised his hand and slapped Erik, sharply enough to snap Erik’s head against the table he had been bound to.

“Answer me!”  
“No.” Erik said, hoarsely. “You do not command me.” Shaw shot him a sly grin.  
“Not yet, perhaps.” Rage flooded the spirit.  
“Never.” Erik spat. “Never.” It was true. Erik was born of a blade. He will break himself before he bends; shatter and slip into the Void before he can be bent. He will- A shocking wave of agony ran through him, and Erik cried out.  
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Shaw smirked at him. “I found a very useful thing; dealing with your kind. Electricity tames the proudest spirit, you know.”

“That shouldn’t hurt-“ Erik said, and broke off. Shaw smiled, walking around the table, towards Erik’s head.  
“My dear demon.” He said, tenderly. “Transfixion bullet, remember?” Gently, he ran a greedy finger down the side of Erik’s face. “You’re not going anywhere, and you’re not getting any more energy from your master.” Erik rolled his head away. “Not until I let you feed again. You know what that will do.“ Erik snorted. He doesn’t feed from humans, of course, and his needs are nothing like those of a demon’s either. Shaw’s voice hardened “Where is he?” Erik closed his eyes, and braced himself.

Shaw was quick to act. He snatched up a screwdriver from the tool bench and drove it deep into Erik’s right eye. Erik shouted, and Shaw laughed, as the sticky blood and fluids leaked out and down Erik’s cheek like a ghastly parody of tears  
“Dear me, I’ve rather spoilt that one. Will it grow back?” _Yes_ Erik thought, _eventually_. Shaw appeared to be wearing gloves, so Erik’s blood could not harm him. A pity. Erik wished he could heal himself even in the simplest way, by allowing his physical self to dissolve and returning to the spirit realm for a brief time. The bullets in him, the chains- they hold him to this world, against his will.

“You should not be so loyal, to such a young, weak master.” Shaw mused aloud, and the waves of pain receded from Erik’s mind. “He must be very skilled at demon raising.” The corner of Erik mouth turned up. Ha. Shaw knows nothing of Erik, nothing of his wards. He will not learn more from Erik.  
“You know nothing.” He told the grey, damp-marked ceiling. “Nothing at all.”  
“I’m only going to free you from him.” Shaw said, calmly. “One way or another.”  
“Pain will not-“

“Oh, pain is the least of my tools.” Shaw purred, silkily. “The longer those bullets are in you, more you become mine, demon.” Erik rolled his eye, and regretted it.  
“They may hold me to the physical plane, but-“  
“They change your Name.” Shaw corrected him, and Erik blinked his good eye. “I’m no ignorant fool; I know what I’m doing.” He went on. “A demon’s Name is his self.” Erik nodded, slowly. It was how demons were mastered, as opposed to bargained with. To know a demon’s name is to command him, but, surely this mortal could not be able to change a demon’s Name, just by shooting them with special bullets? Rewrite them, so simply? 

“You don’t know my Name.” Erik said, slowly. “That’s why you wanted my- the boy.” He mused aloud. It’s a futile attempt that Shaw is making. Not being a demon, Erik’s spirit name – which is, indeed, not Erik- does not define or control him. Erik’s nature is that of protection. As long as he is able, he will protect; that is what defines him. Spirit of protection, just as other spirits are of other things: justice, knowledge. Vengeance.   
“I will _have_ you.” Shaw hissed. “By your Name or by changing it.”

Erik shook his head.  
“One way or the other.” Shaw panted. “Why not just tell me? Save yourself some pain. You owe your young master nothing.”  
“You have no concept of what or to whom I am indebted.” Erik said, calmly. “You never will.”  
“Oh?” Shaw said, archly, and then there was more pain, and Erik could not think around it at all. Blood made a splattering sound against the floor while he convulsed. Shaw made a humming noise, and the waves of pain receded a little.

Erik gasped for breath. His chest ached.  
“Tell me when the boy is likely to be.” Shaw said, eyes steely. Erik looked at him. To his dimmed, near-human senses, Shaw appeared handsome, young and well-formed. To his Sight, if it was here, Erik was sure Shaw would appear as he had done in the street, vile with corruption, stinking and decayed.  
“What loyalty you have.” Shaw said. “The boy cannot have had you long; he was far from corrupt.”

“You will not harm him.” Erik said, furious. “You _will not._ ”  
“No? I suppose you’ve been saving his virtues for your own consumption.” Shaw said. He waved a hand. “I might feed it to you anyway.” He said, thoughtfully, watching Erik sharply. “I’d… mm, _enjoy_ despoiling him, stripping him of his innocence would be a pleasant way to spend the afternoon but you’d get more-“ Erik bellowed, wordlessly, in outrage. Under his rage there was a tiny breath of relief that Shaw seemed not to know about Raven, or her relationships: to Charles, as his sister, and to Erik as his ward.

“You’re odd, for a demon.” Shaw said, and Erik felt a pulse of real fear. “I’m going to find out all about you.” He turned to a bench in Erik’s line of sight, and began picking up tools, carefully.  
“You won’t learn anything. I have nothing to say to you.” Erik rasped, and Shaw smiled.   
“Bet me?” he said, picking up a scalpel. “It’s all right.” Shaw said, soothingly. He turned from the bench, still holding the blade, and approached Erik. “You don’t have to talk. Not for this.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A team puts itself together, Erik suffers, and Shaw plots. 
> 
> Warning: More torture in this chapter, folks.

Alex drove Hank’s car through the early morning hours and wondered how he’d got himself into this. He glanced over at the rear view mirror and saw his answer reflected there. Alex liked kids, he liked his fellow spirits, and he might still have a lot to learn, young as he was, but he wasn’t stupid. He was for knowledge, not protection, however, it was pretty clear if he hadn’t agreed to help, they would have run off and tried to do it alone, and they were both still in school; both still learning. Alex had a responsibility. He shoved his glasses up his nose and drove on.

“I still think you should wait with Hank.” Charles muttered. “There might be-“  
“If this place belongs to Shaw and there’s someone else there, I can _be_ him and talk us through it.” Raven said. Alex shot her an approving look. “And then stab him in the back later.” She added. Alex winced. Charles frowned.  
“But I could-“ Charles gestured at his temples. Raven shot him a withering glance.  
“Charles. It’s _Erik_.” she said, patiently. “I’m not waiting with Hank any more than _you_ are.” Her brother sighed.

Alex worried at his lip. This was risky stuff, a gamble of a move. They didn’t think Shaw would have taken Erik anywhere easily traceable. No one would be stupid enough to think they could keep a spirit concealed or contained for long.  
“We’ll get there in ten.” He said aloud. “After that it’s park the car and walk.” Erik’s wards nodded. “Don’t want to risk tipping them off.” Alex said, possibly unnecessarily.  
 _Where are you, old man?_ Alex thought. _Where_? No reply. Erik could not hear him, or, worse, could not respond.

Charles, the telepath, had not been able to hear Erik anywhere in the town, either. Hank, with Alex’s help, had traced his ownership of a large house, out of town, and that was where the three of them were heading now. Alex had flatly refused to allow Hank there as well; the young scientist had too much to learn and teach to risk him in such a mad-cap scheme, even if they hadn’t needed someone to open up Alex’s bolt hole elsewhere. 

Assuming they weren’t all killed during this research, they needed somewhere to go that Shaw would not know about. Alex had places of his own- most of the Oxford-based spirits of knowledge did- that were secret enough for this. He turned into the lay-by, and took a deep breath. No one would complain about him getting involved in matters of protection; when it was a spirit in trouble, and mortals asking for help. But still, this was dangerous, dangerous ground. Internally, Alex shrugged. Emma had taught him quite a few things in her time. He might as well put them into practice.

Aloud, Alex said. “We’re here.”

“Are you ready for this?” Raven said, to both men.  
“Let’s find out.” Charles said briskly. “We’ve two miles to cover, let’s go.”

 

Pain.

There was pain. Sometimes things- his body, perhaps- hurt less. Sometimes they hurt more. The spirit of protection, who had forgotten that his wards called him Erik, had forgotten where he was, or when he was, or why he was, could no longer recall a time when there had been no pain. Pain was the world; he breathed it, he ate it and drank it. 

Pain.

“It’s really remarkably interesting.” Someone said, nearby. “I cannot preserve a single sample from you.” The wounded spirit could not answer. Could barely understand the sentence. “I take a single sample- a toenail, for example-“ Pain flared up, briefly “And that’s fine, but the second I step over the containment line-“ the voice faded slightly. “Poof! There it goes again” the voice laughed, slightly hysterically. “Up in smoke.” The spirit made no response.  
“May be it’s the two bullets.” The voice mused.

More pain; a digging about in places- his physical body- that should be his and his alone. Feebly, he tried to snarl. _Get out!_ he wanted to yell. _Get out of me!_  
“Oh, hush.” The voice said. There was a yelp; a cry of pain that was not his. The spirit felt a faint flicker of almost amusement. His blood was still toxic to mortals, it seemed. Something pinged across the floor. The voice crowed, triumphant.  
“Got it!” Some of the cold weight and pressure in him lightened. Now there was only one point of pain and cold draining away at him. 

Blackness. Less pain. Light.

The spirit blinked. One eye still worked. The was a face, bending over him. He didn’t like it.  
“You know, I still have no idea what kind of demon you are. Don’t suppose you feel talkative?”  
“Not…” the spirit said, sighing. “Not…” He knew that much about himself. _I was a protection._ he thought, hazily.  
“Ooh, well.” The voice said. “I suppose I’ll just have to ask Charles. Your master.” The spirit clenched his teeth.  
“No master.” He said, faintly. “ _Protect_ ” he insisted between clenched teeth.

Charles. Charles was his ward. He had to protect him; keep him and his… sister, Raven, his other ward, safe. Had to. 

 

Sebastian Shaw was having a most frustrating evening. At first, things seemed to have been going _so well._ A very young demon raiser, an unusual and powerful demon had been dropped into his lap. Even when the master had escaped, Shaw had not minded too much at first. The lad might have been tricky to contain safely, and as an underage student of an obscure college, was hardly going to be believed, if he was fool enough to go to the authorities. The police or the college both knew to call him first.

The transfixion bullets had done their work, smashing the demon into the body it was possessing, and holding it there. Shaw could detect no trace of a master-servant bond; so that had presumably also been destroyed. The thing should have been at his mercy. Yet not one of the spells he tried, not one of the examinations he wanted to put the matter of the demon through, worked. He could not learn its Name. Could not bind its nature. And every single particle from the demon’s body he took over the brass containment ring set in his cellar workroom floor vanished in a puff of smoky heat. 

Unable to feed or flee, the demon should have realised its predicament. Should have tried to bargain, if not beg or wheedle. Really, those were the moments Shaw lived for, investigating demons. Quite apart from the material benefits or the advances in scientific knowledge he made, Shaw found it felt simply exquisite, when something so much older, so much stronger than he was, realised that the scientist held all the cards, and the reins, and had to submit to _his_ mastery.

Why was it so protective of its old master? It had refused to speak of him, let alone tell Shaw where the brat might have fled to. Most demons were perfectly happy to reveal their bargains, or the hold their masters had on them; especially when Shaw promised them freedom from old bindings if they would serve him. Of course, they all planned to betray him, as soon as they could; at least until they found they could not, but this one- this one would not even _try._

This strange, stubborn demon would not yield. Would not beg, or bargain, or plead, whatever Shaw did. He had cut it open, neck to navel, split the chest open, taken samples of the most intimate types, and it had done nothing but curse, and spit and resist. It had done something to the body it possessed. The blood _burned_ , eating through his gloves and marking his suit. Even now, barely able to speak, it resisted him. Didn’t it know Shaw was to be obeyed? 

Shaw glared at it, where it sprawled, limply, stubbornly defiant, on the examination table. The chains still held it. His research into binding symbols had been amply rewarded. There was a slow drip, drip of blood from one corner of the table; and Shaw frowned to see it. He could not risk the blood damaging or blurring the symbols on the table or within the ring. Sighing, he turned to the intercom. The help could earn their keep for once. They’d been useless in locating the boy.

“Sir.” The intercom said.  
“Get down here. I have clean up work.”  
“Sir.”

Shortly after, the door buzzed. Shaw moved to let the help- a stolid, silent man- in. The man appeared at the top of the stairs and marched down.  
“Work?” he said. Shaw pointed.   
“Mop that up; we can’t have the circle obscured. And don’t let it on you.” The help swung to look at the dazed ruin on the table, and stiffened.  
“Oh, don’t be so stupid.” Shaw snapped. “I’ve told you, and told you, they can’t hurt you like this. Just don’t get too close.” The helper jerked back into life, stomping down the stars. 

He stared around the room, dully.   
“Get on with it.” Shaw snapped. “Mop and bucket are by the sink, as they always are.” The helper bustled about, filling a bucket, and grabbing a cloth as well as the mop. He carried filled bucket over to the table and began mopping away. Shaw turned back to his microscope. The helper put down the mop, eyes flashing, and picked up the cloth. Slowly, he began to wipe the table clean. 

Behind Shaw’s back, the helper’s hand slid into the wounded spirit’s lax one and squeezed. The spirit sucked in a sudden, rattling breath.  
“What are you doing?” Shaw said, suddenly. The helper jumped. “You were wiping its face.” He said, accusingly. The helper looked down, paling.  
“Didn’t want to mop til the table was clean.” He mumbled. “Get the worst off, I thought.”  
“Well, mind the blood.” Shaw said, subsiding again. “It burns.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which: Raven learns about spirit anatomy, Shaw learns that Erik is not a demon. Alex learns about daring rescues. Charles learns the importance of timing, and everybody learns the importance of family.
> 
> Some blood and stuff.

Less pain. 

The wounded spirit breathed in. A cool cloth passed over the remains of his face gently, so gently. It hurt, a little, but he was able to open his eye. There was someone, someone mortal, not the voice, nearby. Someone holding his hand. Wiping the blood from his face. Instantly, the spirit grew suspicious. A trick. He would not be tricked. He bared his teeth- the ones that were left- in warning. The new person did not flinch. A familiar voice whispered into his head.  
 _=Erik!=_ Dazed, the spirit replied aloud.

“Wha…?”  
“Sh!” the nearby person said, and he frowned. He knew them. Not by face, or voice but... his grip tightened on the hand holding his. He _knew_ them.  
 _=Erik, it’s Raven. That’s Raven’s hand. What’s he **done** to you?=_ the voice in his head said. The name Erik seemed familiar.  
“What are you doing?” The unpleasant voice sounded suspicious. Raven’s hand twitched out of his.  
“Didn’t want to mop til the table was clean.” A third, unfamiliar voice mumbled.  
 _=Who…?=_ the wounded spirit murmured.

_=I’m=_ it wavered, sounding close to tears. _=Erik, I’m Charles. We’re your wards. Remember?=_ The spirit summoned up some energy. Charles. Raven. Erik. Well, that made sense. They were pleasant. Easy to remember.  
 _=Glad you think so.=_ Charles said, laughing and crying at once. But what were they doing here? Here wasn’t safe at all; they should-  
“Go.” He husked, aloud. There was a clattering sound.  
“Well, don’t just stare at it now you’ve spilt it!” the nasty voice = _Shaw_ = Charles supplied- snapped. 

“Mop it up again!” Shaw flung himself away from the table on the brass circle.  
“Sir.”   
_=Please=_ Erik begged, silently. _=Need you safe.=_ He strained his eye, but as he couldn’t move his head, there wasn’t much to see, apart from the ceiling. He racked his brains. His wards were here, and Erik had do keep them safe. He was a protection.  
 _=I- we’re here for you, Erik. We’re not leaving you.=_ Charles said, softly. _=How are you bound?=_  
 _=Bullet. In my chest.=_ Erik said. _=Chains.=_ He heaved in a weary breath. _=Can’t… can’t **think.=**_ he said, frustrated.

 _=Right=._ Charles said, briskly. _=Raven=?_  
 _=Can do.=_ Raven said, tightly. _=Distraction needed. Hurry, Charles, please.=_ The voice faded, as she made her way back to the sink. Erik felt a vague wave of distress. She was leaving him alone in this terrible place… but his wards, his wards, they had to be safe-  
 _=Not alone.=_ Charles said, instantly, into his head. _=Never alone.=_ Erik blinked and breathed in, slowly. Upstairs, something thumped and fell, heavily. 

Heavily enough to be a body, maybe. Further noises erupted. Shaw whirled to the foot of the stais and struck the intercom buttons, angrily.  
“What’s going on up there?” The intercom made no reply. Shaw cursed, and headed for the stairs.  
“Watch it.” He told the helper. “If it escapes, I’ll feed you to the next one.” He bounded up the stairs full of an almost joyful anticipation of violence. Erik worried. Shaw was away from Raven, but probably nearer Charles, and-  
“Right.” Raven said, standing over him, in all her glorious blue. “Where’s the bullet?”

“Think… here.” Erik said with a dip of his chin to the right side of his chest. “But, Raven… My blood- dangerous.” A smile lit her face, briefly.  
“I’ll have to be quick, then.” She picked up a probe. Erik had to fight hard not to flinch. Doubt muddied Raven’s sun-coloured eyes.  
“I- I’m really, really sorry if this hurts, Erik.” she said, and them hastily, began the search for the evil little bullet. Erik grunted in pain, and arched against his chains.

It did hurt. 

At some point, Raven threw aside the metal probe, and shifted her fingers into finer, stronger pincers. Erik’s eye widened, but before he could croak out a warning, Raven’s fingers were buried in the slice Shaw had carved into him, feeling, searching, prying. It felt- well, it hurt, but it was an easier pain than the scalpels had been. Raven cared for him; Erik could feel that through her fingers in his chest cavity. Her lips tightened- surely his blood was burning her; but Raven only stopped and removed her hand when the bullet was firmly in her grasp. Sobbing in rage and pain, she threw it across the floor, out of the ring. 

“Chains.” She panted, hurrying. “Did you see the keys?” Erik blinked. He felt much closer to being himself, with both bullets out. Weak, and in pain, but still-  
“Hook.” He said. “By the door.” Raven ran. “Wash your hands first.” He tried to order her, but she simply snatched up the keys, ignoring him. She hurried back and began fumbling with the cuff on his right wrist.  
“What about ring?” Raven asked, as the first cuff fell away. Erik shook his head.  
“Binds demons.” He said, dryly, with something that was almost a smile. “Not a demon.” Raven nodded.

“Come on-.” Raven said, as she tugged Erik into sitting on the blood spattered table. The cuffs binding his ankles sprang open, eagerly. Free. He was free. Erik stretched, body and soul. They were still in danger, both his wards, but he was unbound, and healing. He felt like laughing.  
“Ok, wow, let’s get you some clothes” Raven said, eyes wide as she tracked the damage to his body.  
“Not necessary.” Erik assured her, and tried to stand. He was not successful. He wobbled back down to the tabletop, blinking.  
“Yes it is.” Raven said, sharply.

“It’s cold and- he- it looks like he cut you up and sewed you back together with metal!” She bit her lip, and threw a grubby white lab coat at him. “Here.”  
“Used a stapler, not a needle.” Erik said, and concentrated on threading his arms through the sleeves. He couldn’t get his fingers to work very well. Raven moved close, and started to button the lab coat for him. Erik studied the top of her bent head. The world had begun to move in reverse, somehow.

 _=I’m sorry, Alex and I couldn’t decoy him outside- He’s coming back down!=_ Charles’ voice cracked into their minds.  
“Oh, this is touching.” Shaw’s voice sneered, above them. “One demon rescuing another.” Fresh energy raced into Erik. His ward was in danger; he had to act. He shoved Raven behind him, between him and the table.  
“We’re not demons.” Erik said, steadily. Shaw blinked. He raised a strange looking gun in their direction.

“Don’t move. You kept saying that.” Shaw laughed. “You’re certainly not human. What else would you be?”  
“Wow.” Raven’s head poked out from behind Erik. Erik pushed her back into concealment. “He really doesn’t know anything, does he?”  
“Knows enough to be painfully stupid.” Erik reminded her, one good eye steady on Shaw. The gun looked as if it shot fluids, not bullets. Shaw was carrying it as if it was a mighty weapon.

Shaw moved a few steps down.  
“Then what _are_ you?” he said, petulantly. “I want to know.” Erik grinned though bloody teeth, and lunged. The man and his gun were not coming anywhere near Raven.  
“I.” he said, as he closed on Shaw. “Am. For. _Protection._ Shaw squeezed the trigger. A thin spray of fluid shot out, drenching Erik from head to foot. Nothing appeared to happen.  
“Water?” Erik said, in disbelief. Shaw’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped.  
“Wait, no, that was holy water, that’s-“ 

Erik seized Shaw around the throat, and flexed his hands, preparing to break his neck. It was too quick and clean; but he had no time or energy for more.  
“Close your eyes, Raven.” Erik said. “You don’t want to see this.”  
 _=Wait!=_ Charles said, _=Erik, look out, he has-=_ a silvery shaft of agony slipped between Erik’s ribs, and he gasped, staggering backwards. _=a knife=_ Charles said, far, far too late. Blood began to patter out, trailing down his legs and marking the floor. Erik slipped backwards, and went to one knee.  
“Run!” he shouted at Raven. “Run!”

Shaw stiffened and then froze, still as a statue. Charles came down the stairs like the pale and blazing eyed wrath of the Almighty. Behind came… someone else, a blond boy Erik could not at first categorise but-  
“Hey, old man.” The other spirit said, and grinned. “Good to see you again.” Erik shifted his sight- hard with only one eye- and said  
“What are you doing here?” The boy shrugged. He bent over Erik and tugged the knife free of his flesh, skilfully.  
“Learning about daring rescues.” Alex said, and grinned.

A welcome dart of energy passed from his fingers into Erik battered body. The wound stopped bleeding. Carefully, Alex helped Erik stand. Charles twitched.  
“You’re staying _right there_ ” he said, snarling at Shaw, fingers dug into his own temple. A drop of blood oozed from his nostril  
“Charles.” Alex said, soft and worried. “You can’t hold him forever-“ he bent to pick up the knife. Erik put out a hand and seized his wrist.  
“And if you kill him when Charles holds him, it will hurt him, too.” Erik snapped. “Ideas, learned one?”

“I guess.” Alex said, wryly. “Sometimes, knowledge isn’t so much _what_ you know, as it is _who_ you know.” Erik’s jaw dropped.  
“Are you-“ Alex looked up to the ceiling.  
“Hey, Emma?” He said, simply. “I need your help.” There was a small silence. And then there was a woman standing by the bloody table, robed in burning white. She had a sword belted to her side, and she carried a thorny branch in one hand.  
“You only had one favour, from me, Summer-born” Emma said, quietly. There was a distant chime in her voice, of ice and bells of judgement, and finality. 

“One, in all your-“  
“I know.” Alex said, still wry. “But, you gotta figure, this is a good one.” He waved between Shaw and Erik.  
“Vengeance?” Emma said. Her eyes panned the group, and she raised an eyebrow. “I may not bring vengeance for a wrong done to a spirit; you know that.” Shaw tried to say something. Charles swayed. Emma’s eyes softened. “Even such wrong, and done to you, Iron-hearted.” She said to Erik.

Erik nodded, too weary to speak. Raven insinuated herself under his arm, propping him up.  
“What about wrong done to one of us?” Raven said, quickly. Emma turned to look at her.  
“What?” Shaw seemed to be trying to speak. They ignored him.  
“This man, he- he shot Charles. He took Erik; he sliced him up, and-“  
“Erik is a spirit, Child. Your protector, but-” Emma said. Raven shook her head, pressing closer to Erik.

“No.” She insisted. “Erik’s family.” Charles nodded.  
“Our family.” He said, hoarsely.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the rescue, Erik gets some bad news, remembers Shaw, and gets cuddled. Cuddled _firmly._

He was warm, clean, and safe. Erik swam in soft, friendl darkness. Nothing was trying eat or change him. He floated peaceably, unafraid and without impulse, for a long time. He rarely slept; but now it was pleasant to rise from the darkness of slumber to the darkness of a bedroom in Alex’s safe house. The curtained dimness embraced him soothingly, as comforting as the Void, but there was something _warm_ , warm and breathing against him. Two dear and familiar somethings. He was not alone. 

Erik opened his eyes, startled, and was immediately pleased to note that he had two, again. His healing was well-begun, then. Erik drew in a deep breath, as pain and weakness flared; reminding the spirit that he was still not whole. He could not have slept for long, then. There was a warm weight slumped against him. He looked, and it was made up of Raven, asleep, curled into him on one side, and Charles, on the other, lying on his back with his arm draped over Erik’s stomach, clasping his sister across the old spirit’s body.

It was… rather nice. 

Erik swivelled his head to stare at the young spirit of knowledge sitting by the bed. He knew him. The spirit was called Alex, here. He’d been an assistant in Erik’s rescue, and then helped his human remove all the metal, and stitches and carved in sigils from Erik’s physical self. His hands had been steady and his touch gentle; even as his eyes had burned with rage and compassion for what Erik- so much older, so much stronger- had been forced to endure. And the reasons he had settled on Hank was also obvious. The human, another from the lines of the spirit families, had been equally moved to compassion, to healing and caring, as any spirit Erik knew. 

The spirit of knowledge grinned at him, crookedly.  
“How’re you’re feeling, Ironheart?” He was fiddling with a piece of cord, knotting and unknotting it, as he talked. His glasses flashed in the dim, underwater light.  
“Better than Shaw doubtless is.” Erik said, and both spirits shivered, as they shared the same flashing memory. Emma’s vengeance on Shaw might not have look like much to the humans, but both of the spirits had _seen_ what lay in store for the man. To Charles and Raven’s eyes, Emma had kissed Shaw, and that was all. 

At least Alex had warned Charles to shield himself and Raven from the backwash, as fully as the telepath could. Erik; worn and faltering as he had been, had few such defences. One kiss of her icy mouth to his lips, no more, and Erik had nearly fallen. There had been very little of him left, by then. The spirit of vengeance had smirked at him, almost kindly; and murmured  
“The best revenge is living well.” She had traced the pattern of healing on his forehead, and Erik had felt it sink into his bones, giving him the strength he needed to carry on a little longer.

He and Alex had watched, stunned, their Sight unveiled. Emma had carried his blood on her mouth to Shaw, wearing it like a banner, like a battle standard blazing in the snow. She had kissed the mortal slow, and deep, until Erik’s blood was smeared across his mouth and face. And then she had gone, as silently as she came. Shaw had made no protest, spoken no threats, after that. He had gone still, and silent, allowing them to leave without further incident or comment, merely staring at nothing with wide, horrified eyes. They had almost got to the door before they heard Shaw begin to scream.

“I will just-“ Erik said, and began to move. Raven made a sleepy noise of displeasure, and clutched at him. Erik stilled.  
“Think you’re gonna be staying there awhile.” Alex said, in amusement. Erik glared at him. Alex was the master of this refuge. He was also, according to Emma, a pain in the ass, although she would not have put it so… crudely. Erik could sympathise with her.  
“I must dissipate and reform myself; I am not fully recovered, and this will be quicker-” Erik was weak. The pain did not matter, but while he was weak, he could not protect his wards, and he- he had to. 

“No!” Alex’s voice was sharp. “You- You can’t, not yet.” Erik stared. A fear woke in him, one he had not known before. He looked down; the children were still asleep. Good. There would be trouble enough when they woke. He had- they had put themselves in danger for their protector.  
“Explain.” Erik said, curt. Alex licked his lips, nervously.  
“Shaw tried to change your nature.” He said carefully. Erik nodded. This much was not new.  
“Shaw could not tell the difference between demons and spirits.” Erik said. 

He wasn’t cold. Why was he shivering?  
“No, but the bullets he used, and the marks”- Alex swallowed. Shaw had carved patterns and symbols onto Erik’s flesh as if they would re-write the elder spirit to his own desires. If the staples he’d used, closing up the wounds he made during his vivisection of the old man, hadn’t distorted or grounded the energy they’d been meant to catch or form, who knew what kind of damage Shaw could have used Erik to inflict? The older spirit could have gone up like a beacon. Like a bomb.

“He put incursions into you.” Alex said, aloud. “If you went back now, before they fade-“ He shrugged. “You’ll fracture.” Alex’s face was sad. “The bullets, and the damage he did- if you go back too soon, you’ll shatter, and be obliterated. The Void will take you in.”  
“Oh.” Erik said, numbly, staring at his children. He swallowed. “Probably not a good idea, then.” There was a thick rug, lying at the foot of the bed, woven in restful blues and greys. Alex bent and handed it to him.

“You’re cold.” He said, gently, and Erik had to look away from the other spirit’s eyes. He was still so weak, compared to what he had been. So short a time ago, and now…  
“How long-“ Erik carefully draped the rug across Raven and Charles.  
“You’ve been resting a day and a night since we got the staples out of you.” Alex said. Erik nodded. “Your kids- one or other’s been there the whole time.”  
“The staples weren’t comfortable.” He said, after a pause to brush Raven’s hair out of her eyes. “But-after the cutting- it kept everything together.” Alex grimaced.

Charles stirred as Erik moved to sit up. Erik lay back down again.  
“Erik?” Charles said, in a whisper. Erik glared at Alex, and the other spirit promptly vanished.  
“I’m here.” The spirit of protection said, and Charles’s eyes shot open. He turned his face into Erik’s pyjama clad chest and began to cry, very quietly.  
“I’m sorry. You got huyrt, and – it’s my fault.” He wept. “I should have- I met S-shaw, before, and I – I should have seen it.”  
“No, Charles.” Erik said, gently, and Charles looked up, eyes blue and damp.  
“I should have-“  
“Charles.” Erik said, and Charles hushed. Erik breathed in.

“When dealing with an ignorant and vicious madman, there is no point in clinging to ‘should haves’, no profit in self recriminations.” He said, gently. “I did not foresee Shaw; you could hardly be blamed for not realising one of your teachers was a sadist.”  
“But.” Charles said, and oh, Erik was not going to tolerate _this._  
“You came after me.” He said, quietly. Charles blinked.  
“Well, of _course._ ” the boy said. Raven murmured a sleepy agreement.  
“It is so very much more than enough.” Erik said, and squeezed Charles around the shoulders.

“I was there too.” Raven said.  
“Yes. You were.” Erik acknowledged, and swallowed. “I- I am sorry I could not-“ He stopped. Both his children were staring at him now. “I put you both in danger.” Erik said, finally. “I did not fulfil my promise-“ Raven put her hand over his mouth.  
“No profit in self recrimination?” Charles said, and Raven smiled slightly. Erik frowned.  
“I am for protection.” He reminded them. “I swore by that which is and that which is not-”  
“That you would not let us come to harm” Raven said. “I was seven, I remember.”

“I was nine.” Charles said. “And you haven’t. Harmed us I mean.”  
“Charles. You’re sixteen.” Erik said, stiffly. Charles raised an eyebrow. It might have been more effective as a move if Erik could not clearly recall him practising the expression for several weeks, when he was fourteen. Erik raised an eyebrow back at him.   
“I’m sorry, you should have raised us not to be decent people, then if you expected us to leave you to suffer horrible science things because it was _safer._ ” Raven snapped. Charles closed his mouth and nodded, firmly.  
“What?”

“You brought us up, Erik.” Raven said, again. Charles nodded.  
“Of course we were going to come after you. You came for us.” He said.  
“That’s… that’s different.” Erik said. “I-  
“You are family to us, Erik.” Raven said, so flatly that Erik’s mouth snapped shut of its own accord. Charles eyed him, and smiled.  
“You really shouldn’t be surprised that your children would do for you what you would do for them, you now.”  
“Now lie down and go back to sleep.” Raven said, peering at him critically. “You’re still very pale.”

Well, then.

Erik lay down again. The siblings wriggled in closer, wrapping their arms around him. Raven stuck her head under Erik’s left arm, and Charles rested his head against Erik’s right shoulder.

They slept.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik is old, and therefore somewhat stubborn of thought process. Raven and Charles reiterate the importance not only of Erik's presence but also his health to them.
> 
> I found out I actually have a dental cavity, last week; I warn you now, this probably made it larger. Clean your teeth well after reading, or you too could be having to go to the dentist.

Alex’s safe house was an old farmhouse built of mellow stone with a red-tiled roof. The outbuildings had not survived, but the house itself was ancient and sturdy, wrapped around the garden and the people in it like a cat around her kits. Flowers spilt from pots, invaded the lawn and hung over the awning that shaded Erik as he lay in the garden lounger, recovering, his strength and his footing step by step. The air was kind and full of the scent of roses. The river beyond the garden warded the grounds without ceasing.

The safe house was tucked away in a pocket of summery countryside that most mortals would find it very difficult to locate. That lessened the strain on Erik’s recovering energies in two ways. Firstly, the chances of harm befalling his wards was less, given how hard it would be for inimical forces to find them, so he could relax, just a little, his vigilance. Secondly, the place was stuffed full of restorative energy and healing intent. In such an atmosphere, even unable to dissolve and reform his physical self; Erik found himself recovering quickly from Shaw’s clumsy investigations.

Charles had applied for a term’s leave of absence, unspecified family reasons demanding his presence elsewhere. Given that he was only sixteen, it would not halt his academic progress too much, Erik hoped. And Raven had also applied for this leave, and been somewhat disgruntled to be assigned schoolwork to complete by herself. Alex had taken over making her actually do it, from Charles, and the situation appeared to be working well, and so Erik was not going to ask for more details.

Alex was going to be a great spirit, when his strength peaked. Even if he was rash enough to trade a favour from Emma the white frost of vengeance, for this. For him. Unusually, for a spirit of learning, Alex had no problems with erasing knowledge. He had destroyed the information Shaw had collated on demons, and all records the idiot sadist had made of Erik’s sufferings even before Erik had been coherent enough to request it.   
“Some things, people don’t need to learn.” Was all he’d said when Erik asked him about it. “Don’t worry, old man, I took care of it; along with that damn cellar room.” 

Erik sighed and opened his eyes. The summer air was soft and kind against his face. He had actually managed to dress himself this morning, which he regarded as a personal achievement of no small degree, given the amount of mortals hovering around him as if bent of forestalling his every attempt at doing anything for himself. Trust Alex to attach himself to a man of healing and medical expertise. The river ran gurgling over stones at the foot of the garden. 

Erik scanned his surroundings and began to plot. Raven was in the house. Charles was almost out of earshot, investigating the river. The only person close enough to stop him from getting up and getting his own drink was the studious medical expert Alex had been cultivating. Stealthily, Erik folded back the rug Raven had draped over him before leaving, and placed one bare foot on the sun-hot ground beneath.  
“I- I’m afraid I’m going to have to stop you there, Mr…Erik.” Hank said, somewhat nervously.

Erik glared at him, steadily.  
“I-“ Hank said. “I have to advise against you straining yourself by moving.” He swallowed.   
“Yes, that is a very disturbing stare” Hank added, after a pause. “But still.”  
“On what grounds?” Erik said, low and dangerous.  
“My continued health and happiness.” Hank said, promptly, and Erik blinked. “Alex has told me how long your recovery is likely to take, and Charles and Raven have both politely let me know that if you hurt yourself trying to do things too early, while I’m responsible for you, I’m going to die, and also wake up believing myself to be Beyonce or possibly a chicken.” 

“Also I saw- I helped Alex put you back together, once we got here, and I can tell you, right now, that makes me consider you my patient.” Erik opened his mouth. Hank’s voice turned fierce. “So don’t you even _think_ about moving.” Erik closed his mouth. “Think about what you want me to fetch or do so you don’t have to, instead.”  
“Water.” Erik admitted, finally. “Just water. No ice.” Hank looked at him for a long moment, before nodding, firmly, lips pressed together.   
“I’ll get you some. Do not move from that chair.” Erik propped his foot back up and tilted the chair back, obediently.

 _=Thank you, Hank=_ Charles said, too softly for Erik to hear. Hank shook his head and departed kitchenwards, cheerfully. Charles wandered back up the garden towards Erik.  
“I am fine.” Erik said to Charles, firmly. Charles looked at him. “I will be fine.” He said, after a short pause. Charles nodded, sticking his hands in his pockets.  
“I have every faith in you.” He said, cheerfully, and dropped into Hank’s seat. “How are you feeling?”  
“My- the injuries have all healed. My teeth have grown back.” Erik said. “And the incursions are fading.” 

Charles nodded. He put out his hand and Erik took it, quietly.  
“That’s good.” Charles said, softly. “That’s- that means it doesn’t hurt anymore?” He sounded hopeful. Erik smiled.  
“Mostly. I do not like being so weak. I cannot be what you need, like this.” He said, a little harshly.  
“Erik.” Charles said, quickly. “Whatever you’re like, however powerful or not you are, you are always, always what Raven and I need.” His hand tightened on Erik’s wrist. “Always.” 

Erik’s eyes stung; but he ignored them. Discipline. He still had it.  
“You are a good man, Charles Xavier.” He said, quietly. Charles blushed.  
“Whose fault is that then?” he teased. Erik shrugged. Charles was as he could be, given a little care and encouragement. Erik could take no blame or credit for it. He had provided space; but the boy had grown all by himself. The girl, too.  
“Whose fault is what?” Raven said from behind them. Erik let his chair move upright.

“Erik says I’m a good man.” Charles said, taking his glass from the tray Raven carried.  
“Erik is biased.” Raven shot back, promptly, as she handed the spirit his own glass. “You sure you only want water?”  
“You are a good woman, Raven.” Erik said, amused in spite of himself. “And water is preferable, thank you.” Erik sipped his water and watched the siblings bicker, amiably, with each other. Even before his- before Shaw’s attack, he had thought they were growing up fast. Now he was certain of it. 

The spirit repressed a selfish regret; soon they would no longer need the protections he could give, and then, well, what was his purpose here? He shivered, slightly.  
“You’re cold.” Raven said, suddenly. She busied herself tugging the blanket back up over Erik’s waist and up to his chest. Erik let her. Since Shaw, since the bullets, the old spirit had found it surprisingly hard to regulate his body temperature alone. The soft air of the safe house helped, but still-  
“I should be stronger than this.” Erik said, more to himself than his children. 

Charles took the empty glass out of his hand.  
“You will be again, Alex says.” Charles said, quietly. “Why push harder if it makes it worse?” Erik turned to look at him. Raven sat on the ground between them.  
“I am for protection.” He said, finally. “I protect you.”  
“You do.” Charles said. Raven murmured her agreement. “You always have.” Charles said. Raven reached up and put a hand on Erik’s elbow. Automatically Erik checked; yes, the burns his blood had inflicted on her were healed and gone.

“Why would having a convalescence like this mean you weren’t protecting us?” she said, calmly.   
“I take care of you.” Erik said. “I-“  
“And we take care of you.” Raven said, and Charles nodded, eyes bright.  
“It’s a privilege.” He said, earnestly. Raven looked at him, disbelievingly; he shrugged at her. Erik had to smile.  
“A privilege?” he said, almost lightly. He found it hard to believe, himself. 

“Looking after a cranky elderly blade-born-spirit-of-protection?” Charles strung the words together carelessly. Erik blinked. Perhaps he was too fond of those phrases.   
“Yes, of course it’s a privilege.” Charles said, head tilted towards Erik in fond exasperation.  
“After all.” Raven said, hugging her knees and grinning up at him. “You’re _our_ cranky elderly blade-born-spirit-of-protection, Iron-heart. Aren’t you?”  
“Yes.” Erik said, slowly, to his children’s widening smiles. “I suppose I am.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue. All good things...

Erik recovers slowly; between Alex and Hank and his children, he does not over exert himself, but eventually he manages to convince his overly obsessive guardians that he is capable of making his own way to the spirit realm, to his coffee, food, bed, and so on. Eventually. Raven and Charles take the rest of the university term as a holiday, before they return to their separate learnings and Erik returns to his car repairs and his protectiveness.

Of course, all holidays must end; just as all children grow up.

Alex takes an interest in Raven’s school. Erik finds there are a couple of teachers there who could do with some education of their own. With both Spirits at work, they’re going to have the best test results in the country soon. Raven rolls her eyes, but laughs when she secures the lead role in the school play. Hank and Charles are forever telling everyone else that that experiment was _meant to do that_. Occasionally, Erik believes them.

Sharon dies just before Charles’s finals, of a heart attack. Charles gets a First.

Charles goes to America for his post-grad; he’s only nineteen, but he makes friends as well as learning more. Alex locates a Spirit of knowledge based at his university who is there to keep Tony Stark alive; she says Charles is easy in comparison to him. Raven finishes her schooling and heads to RADA- she can look like any role offered, but she needs the basics of the craft, too. Erik travels between them, via the Spirit realm, and waits until he will no longer be needed. He is sure it can’t be long. Charles overhears him, and has a long, quiet talk with Raven.

It takes both Charles and Raven quite some time to convince Erik that he will always be needed, by both of them.

Having collected a profane amount of qualifications, Charles promptly decides that the best thing to do with this new-found knowledge is pass it on. He founds a school in his father’s house. Alex is smug about the fact that Charles has taken up the path of knowledge, until Charles taps him for teaching. Erik finds Alex’s subsequent reactions all highly amusing. He ensures that the new school is safe, not just in terms of walls or wiring or legal forms, but also that the pupils will not be hurt, by staff, or by each other.

Erik teaches car repair, self defence, and cooking. Every single class is always jammed full; the old spirit is not sure why.

Hank finally co-operates with Tony Stark and they build Charles the machine that helps him use his gift to find other children like he and Raven were. Different. Scared. In need of help. Erik is mildly surprised at the machine, and utterly unable to hide his delight at what Charles and Hank and Tony are doing with it. An FBI agent called Moira comes to find out why (and indeed how) the hell a private school has started locating so many vulnerable children. She meets Professor Charles Xavier, and promptly gets roped in to the project of finding gifted children and keeping them safe.

She teaches languages, in the end, and history. Erik approves, although she never fully understands what he is.

Raven steadily makes her mark on the acting world; getting bigger and bigger parts on stage, before turning to Hollywood. The special effects people love her; she saves them fortunes in time and money both pre and post production- and she can _act_. She’s having fun. Tony asks her to marry him, and she turns him down. Tony gets drunk with Charles and Erik, and wakes up to find himself committed to teaching science of all types to children of all ages and abilities for a year, _without_ alcohol or explosions.

Tony tries to run away screaming; but is stopped by Erik before he frightens the children.

Pepper comes to Erik, not long after that first year of teaching is under Tony’s belt, when Stark Industries is making noises about getting back into weaponry. They deal with Obadiah Stane neatly and discreetly, just before Tony’s search team locates Captain America. Tony abandons the School in the name of becoming a hero. Erik likes the team he selects; and he knows Coulson is almost as old a sprit as Erik himself. He’s reliable. Charles says it’s showy; Tony builds the suit in an effort to show Charles what real showing off looks like, done right.

Privately, Erik goes over that suit and lays every pattern or protection and strength that he and Alex know or can find.

 

Charles gets older. Erik does not. He does not speak about it. Neither does Charles; although the impending bald spot distresses him. Raven gets married- not to Tony- and is disgustingly happy. Charles seems equally disgustingly happy unmarried. Erik might fret, about the future, but it’s not as if Charles ever feels lonely or unfulfilled; between his friends and his children and his Spirit, he never has the time. 

The children keep Erik increasingly busy at the School, too. 

A few years after she got married, Raven brings her first child, a blue little boy, along to meet Charles and Erik. Charles is very excited about his nephew. Erik holds the baby and regards him steadily. The baby gurgles damply and him before beaming, gummily. Charles and Raven smile at each other over Erik’s unchanging and oblivious head. The blade-born spirit ignores them.

 _=I am for protection.=_ He tells the boy, silently. _=By that which is and by that which is not, I shall not betray or fail you, though I am obliterated for it.=_

Overhearing him again, Charles smiles.


End file.
